Destruction
by Anglachel
Summary: Sequel to Prophecy. Hermione, Draco, Harry, Ron, and Pan are finally back at school. Hermione and Draco experience relationship turmoil, and Draco's crazy halfbrother shows up, to make the situation worse...
1. A New School Year

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger, Draco and Pandora Malfoy, Ginny and Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, stood on Platform 9 and ¾, watching as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley disappeared into the throng of people.

"I guess we're too old for them to wave goodbye," Ginny said, sounding rather hurt.

"Nah," Ron said, ruffling her hair. "They have Order business, it's not us. If it was, they would have told us." This seemed to comfort Ginny a little, but she was still very upset.

Draco turned toward the giant red engine that was before him, hissing and steaming. "Well, I guess we have to begin school sometime. I'll see you all later."

With that, he vanished into the crowd, looking for his old friends, and leaving his current ones rather disgruntled.

"I don't understand why he has to go back to his old house," Pan said grumpily. "I mean, everyone likes him over here, not over there."

"Pan, you haven't been sorted yet," Hermione said. "You might end up in Draco's house, and then you'll have to put up with all those Slytherins."

"I was raised by Albus Dumbledore," Pan replied haughtily. "You think I'd really be sorted into that house, be realistic Hermione."

"I am being realistic," Hermione replied, slightly miffed.

"This isn't a good beginning for a year," Harry said. "You two stop fighting, or I'll curse you."

"Can't," Hermione teased. "We're not at Hogwarts yet!"

"You can count on me doing it anyway once we get there," Harry said with a grin. Hermione was quiet, but then started randomly poking Ron.

"Hey, cut it out!" Ron said, grabbing her hand. "No poking."

"Hermione!" Ginny snapped, "What has gotten into you?"

Suddenly, Pandora looked up from her bag, which she had been fiddling with.

"My brother's here," she announced.

"Of course he is," Hermione said gaily. "He was in the car with us when we drove here, don't you remember? He was sitting next to you."

"Not that brother," Pan said distinctly. "Not that brother."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, clearly alarmed. "Not that kid that got Hermione and Draco tossed in jail?"

"Oh yes," Pan said, her eyes narrowing. "Crazy old Luc."

And suddenly, there he was, standing in the middle of the platform, his grey eyes wide with confusion, apparently lost.

"Draco's not going to be happy about this," Hermione groaned, shaking her head. "He's got such a grudge already."

"I can't believe it," Ginny said. "He's gorgeous."

"Whatever you do," Ron said through the corner of his mouth. "Don't date him. He's psychotic."

"Oh, look at him," Ginny cooed. "He's lost. Let's go rescue him."

Ron grabbed her by the shoulder as she started off, shaking his head. "Don't you dare."

"But why?"

Pan shook her head, mirroring Ron's expression. "He's not all there."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "And like you are, Pan."

Pan grinned. "I'm more sane than he is, think of it that way."

"He doesn't look insane," Ginny insisted, edging in his direction.

"Neither do I," Pan replied serenely, picking up her bag. And at this moment, she didn't. However, her friends knew better. They watched her as she started toward the train, but luckily, Harry dragged her backward before she fell off the edge and onto the tracks.

"Anyone wanna get on the train?" Ron asked glibly.

Luckily, they found an empty compartment toward the end of the train, and they all piled in.

"As Head Boy and Girl," Hermione said, turning to Harry. "We need to go prep the new Prefects."

"What?" Harry asked, completely dazed. Hermione dragged him by his pants into the hallway.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, pulling him down the hall. "Didn't you read any of the material in the letter? It clearly stated what we're supposed to tell them, where their bathroom is, and all that."

"Yeah?" Harry asked half-heartedly. "Did it really?"  
"Ye Gods!" she said loudly, causing a bunch of timid first years to jump. "You can read!"

Harry blushed as a bunch of third years waved seductively in his direction. "Uh, yeah, whatever you say, Hermione."

She whirled on him, and motioned the third years off with her hand. "You behave yourself, Harry Potter. The third years are off-limits."

"I know that!" Harry said indignantly, straightening his collar, which she had crushed when pulling him close to lecture him. "I wasn't doing anything wrong."

She narrowed her eyes, and marched down the hall, with Harry close on her heels.

* * *

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed loudly.

The young prefects seemed very uneasy around him, and were staring at him as if he was some sort of demon. Where was Hermione when he needed her most?

Suddenly the car door swung open, and there were standing Harry and Hermione, flustered.

"Hello, Prefects," Hermione said smoothly; immediately stepping into her authority figure role with ease. "I am Hermione Granger."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry volunteered, turning bright red

"And I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco sneered, enjoying the small smile Hermione had donned. She always found it funny when he slipped back into his former personality, wearing it like one would wear an old pair of shoes that you especially like, but has a hole in the toe.

The car door swung open loudly.

"Am I late?" the person gasped, and they found themselves looking at a very embarrassed and bright red Padma Patil.

"Yes, but that's okay," Hermione replied cheerfully. "We were almost late as well. Introduce yourself to the Prefects, please."

"I'm Padma Patil," she said, waving slightly to the seemingly tiny Prefects.

"As I was saying," Hermione continued without missing a beat. "You are the Prefects, and it is your duty to guard and lead the underclassmen…"

After their speech, Hermione and Harry headed back to their compartment.

"It's so weird having four Heads," Harry said musingly, "I mean, it goes against tradition. And even though change is good, there was nothing wrong with the old way."

Hermione agreed. "Yes, but Harry, I think that Dumbledore wouldn't change it without a legitimate reason."

"That's true," Harry said tiredly.

Hermione went on. "And Harry, I think this won't be the only thing that's changed at Hogwarts."

* * *

A/N: Okay, if you haven't read my two stories before this, Disfigurement and Prophecy, you're probably confused beyond all belief. Read those ones first, and then come back to this. If you are a follower, just leave a review, and I appreciate that you came to look for this. :)  



	2. Hogwarts

Chapter 2

Finally, the Hogwarts Express came to a grinding halt at the Hogwarts platform, and the students piled out onto the paving stones, yelling at their friends and creating a general racket.

The only person who was not in fact screaming at the top of their lungs was a certain Pandora Malfoy. She was in fact, quite calm and collected, having few friends, and they were already surrounding her. The hullabaloo did not phase her in the slightest, as the others thought it would, it merely seemed as if she found it all quite below her, and very boring.

"Pan, is anything wrong?" Harry asked, gently touching her elbow as he approached her from behind. "You seem… tired."

"No," she said with a faint smile. "I'm not. It's strange to be coming home, but it's not really my home anymore. It's my school now, and it's all very strange."

"Understandably," Hermione replied dryly. "Nothing is the same for us either."

Hagrid was standing at the water's edge, waving his arms and calling the first years.

"Pandora Malfoy, you'll be coming with us to," Hagrid said, beckoning with his shovel-like hands. She hurried over to Hagrid, smiling and laughing as always, her previous pensiveness forgotten completely.

"She's strange," Ron remarked with a slow shake of his head. "Mighty strange. I dunno what to think about her."

"Think of her as a friend," Harry said shortly, turning away. "And don't worry about how she's different. She'll fit right in."

Ron shook his head again. "I think this year-"

"Don't think," Hermione said smiling grimly. "Because if you think to much, it'll convince you to turn around and head right home."

* * *

The horseless carriages awaited them, silent and grim. Hermione knew that the thestrals stood impatiently beneath the harnesses, waiting for the motion to take them all up to the castle.

And suddenly, it began to rain furiously, the grey clouds letting water pour bucketfuls on them.

Hermione stood in the rain, watching the other students climb into their carriages, and soon she was the only one. She looked up at Hogwarts, the lights twinkling warmly, and she shivered slightly, a deep sense of foreboding settling over her like a damp blanket.

She threw open a coach door, and piled in, where Harry, Ron and the others were waiting for her.

* * *

The great gates of Hogwarts School stood imposingly, and as Draco stared out the window of his carriage, he swore he saw a gargoyle move and smile hideously at him. He quickly looked away, and when he had the courage to look again, it stood frozen and still, it's face contorted horrendously.

"What are you looking at?" Pansy inquired, stroking his arm.

"Gargoyles," he replied, looking back at her. "I didn't notice them before this year."

"They've always been there," Blaise muttered darkly, his dark eyes glowing feverishly in the darkness of the carriage. "Glowering at us all the time."

Draco grinned suddenly and too quickly, willing away the fear that had suddenly stolen his senses from him. The rain hit the windows like a battering ram, relentless and torrid.

* * *

Hermione stood in the front hallway, shaking the rain from her cloak, and followed the others into the Great Hallway. Hundreds of glowing candles floated in the air, warming her instantly.

"Will they ever get new ideas?" Parvati grumbled just ahead of her. "Every year, the same thing."

"I think it's pretty," Hermione said loyally, smiling up at the candles. "It's a good piece of magic, and it always impresses the first years so."

"I suppose," Parvati allowed, still frowning. "Still."

"Did you hear?" a sixth year said to her friend loudly. "There are four head boys and girls this year! Why do you think that is?"

Hermione wondered the same thing herself.

Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see Luc standing beside her, his grey eyes vivid and intense.

"Hermione?" he said.

"Yes?" she replied, colder than she intended. "Can I help you?"

Luc seemed uncomfortable in the busy atmosphere, the hubbub scaring him. It struck Hermione how different he and his twin were. Pandora hadn't batted an eyelash in a crowd, but Luc seemed out of place, as if he was from the wrong century.

But his attention to her had not gone unnoticed. Several of the younger class girls were pointing and giggling, and it had not escaped Hermione's attention that Luc was very handsome.

"Can I speak with you?"

"Yes you probably can," she replied absentmindedly, "And you may speak with me."

He blushed furiously at his error, and drew her over into an alcove in the entrance hall.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm going here," Luc said, his hands winding around each other.

"You could say that," she replied.

"Well, my father decided that I should go to school for a year in England, to improve my English, and everything."

"Your English is fine," she said impatiently, eager to return to the Great Hall. "Now, why do you want to talk to me?"

Luc took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize for my conduct over the summer."

Hermione snorted. "That's it?"

"No," Luc continued. "I may apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you-"

Hermione nearly whacked him. "Inconvenience?"

He plunged ahead, ignoring her outburst. "And I do not regret my actions, for they were well-intentioned, and I believe my beliefs about Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini still hold true."

Hermione was furious now. "Luc Boulanger, you stay away from me. I don't care how well intentioned you are, you're wrong about Draco and Blaise. You didn't 'inconvenience' me; Luc, you ruined my summer. I hope you're happy, but I really don't like you right now."

She stormed off, and hurried back into the Great Hall.

The students were erupting into applause, and Hermione realized in dismay that she had missed the hat's song. She grabbed an empty seat beside Harry, and watched as the sorting began.

"Abbott, Arnold," Professor McGonagall called from a long list of names, and Arnold was sent off to Hufflepuff with his sister.

And so on, until,

"Boulanger, Luc."

Luc stepped up to the stool, and had barely put the hat on, when it shouted out,

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione looked, stricken, over at the Slytherin table to see both Malfoy and Blaise with their mouths hanging open in shock. Luc seemed angry about the house's choice, and he stumbled over to the Slytherin table, his shoulders shaking with fury.

The sorting continued until it reached,

"Dumbledore, Pandora."

Hermione nearly fell out of her seat, but then realized that she could not assume her real last name.

The entire school was whispering in shock as the beautiful Pandora waltzed up to the stool and sat down. A few moments passed, and the hat shouted,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco looked over at Hermione, and watched his sister join her.

What was he going to do?

* * *

A/N: Okay, for those of you who are confused. This is the sequel to Prophecy, and Prophecy is finished. It's complete. I don't really like writing huge, hundred chapter long stories, so I decided to split the story up into three to four stories. So, in essence, Disfigurement, Prophecy, and Destruction are all the same story, just split up so it doesn't get too boring. Thanks to those who reviewed! Please leave another. :)  



	3. The Head Dorms

Chapter 3

The sorting continued, and finished with another member of the Zorka family, who was sorted into Ravenclaw. Professor McGonagall rolled up the list of names neatly, and took the hat and stool away. Then, Professor Dumbledore took the podium, solemnly.

This was rare, especially for Dumbledore, who was usually quite mirthful at these opening speeches, and it put them all on edge.

"Good evening, students," he said quietly, but for some strange reason, they all heard him quite well. "We are gathered on the edge of a new year, the verge of new beginnings. Those who are returning are aware that every year a head girl, and a head boy, are selected. This year, we have four head students, two boys, and two girls. These students are selected because of their quality leaderships skills, not based on their houses. The head boys and girls this year are: Padma Patil, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy.

"No doubt you are all wondering, why do we need four head students? The answer is quite simple, students. In light of what happened last year, we need more security and strength within the school. You are to obey your heads at all times. Regardless of their house, you are in their jurisdiction.

"Moving on. We have a new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Everyone immediately looked up at the teacher's tables, and saw that there was indeed a new face. He had dark wavy hair that fell to just below his ears. His eyes were a deep dark blue that seemed so gentle and beautiful, Hermione found it hard to believe that he taught such a cruel subject. Suddenly, he caught her eye, and she felt as if she was wallowing in the ocean, and she felt a intense feeling of déjà vu, but it passed as quickly as it had come, and she wondered if she had imagined it.

"This is Professor Santisi," Dumbledore continued, motioning to the young teacher. "And he just arrived here from Sicily."

All the younger girls swooned, he was very handsome, and Hermione noticed that even Ginny was blushing. He had to be no more than twenty-three, and would be a wonderful catch for the lucky girl who could lay hands on him.

Hermione found herself looking over at Draco, who was laughing at something Blaise had said.

* * *

After dinner, Dumbledore stood again.

"You may leave now, but I need to see the heads after everyone has left, right here."

There was a flurry of motion as the other students hurried away to their dorms, the prefects ferrying the frightened first years up to their house dorms. Hermione watched them go, it was bittersweet to see the young students, especially in her last year.

She hurried over to the teacher's table, where the other heads were assembling.

"Now, we have created a individual dorm for the head students to live," Dumbledore told them, smiling like he used to. "I decorated it myself."

"We have to stay with him?" Padma demanded, pointing at Draco accusingly. "I don't-"

"Shush," Hermione warned her. "It's not up to us." Padma fell into wary silence, glaring at Draco with undisguised distaste.

"This way," Dumbledore said.

* * *

They went out into the entrance hall, and into the tower with all the stairs. They headed up a long flight of stairs into the heart of the castle, and before she knew it they had reached a portrait.

The portrait was of the author William Shakespeare, and sat in the empty hallway rather forlornly.

"Good evening, Will," Dumbledore said politely.

"Master Dumbledore!" Shakespeare boomed. "Good evening to you as well. Thou hast brought me a passel of lads and lassies, no?"

"They'll be staying in the tower," Dumbledore said, and Hermione quickly realized that they were indeed standing at the foot of one of the smaller towers.

"The password is Muffleberry," Dumbledore told them. The portrait swung open, and they entered a very large sitting room.

The room was decorated in all the colors of each house in Hogwarts. There were four plush chairs, two in Gryffindor colors, one in Slytherin, and one in Ravenclaw. A merry fire blazed in the fire-place, over which hung the Hogwarts crest, and many tapestries lined the walls. In the corner of the room was a spiral staircase.

"I'll leave you all to explore, don't forget the password, and I shall see you all at breakfast tomorrow."

"Yes, Professor," they all said together, and he smiled once briefly, and left.

The room was silent save for the crackling of the fire.

"Do you suppose we get our own rooms?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Only one way to find out," Draco said, charging up the stairs. Hermione hurried after him.

When they reached the landing, their was a door which said,

"Padma."

"I suppose this is Padma's room," Harry said, and Padma opened the door. The others hurried up the stairs, and at the next landing was Harry's room. Hermione found her room another story up, and Draco was at the very top.

"Thank goodness we can Disapparate and Apparate," he said grumpily. "Or else we'd be very sore."

Hermione opened her room's door, and found that it was decorated in all Gryffindor colors. She had her own bathroom, also in a red and gold theme, and a huge four-poster bed. She found herself missing the incessant chatter of the other girls, and missed Ginny horribly. She decided that on the weekends she would let some of the other girls sleep in her room, so she wouldn't be so alone.

There were five windows, each placed so that she could pop out of bed and look down upon the castle and surrounding lands. She couldn't wait to see the Forbidden forest from so high up.

* * *

Draco's room was not decorated in Slytherin colors, to his relief, but was instead white and yellow. Having the top of the tower was enjoyable, because there were many windows, and he knew there would be a fantastic view.

He was relieved to have escaped from Luc's careful watch, but knew that almost all his classes would include the suspicious boy. Draco found it hard to believe that Luc was his half-brother, and decided most certainly, that he liked Pandora a great deal more.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! Please do it again, I'd really appreciate it. :) 


	4. Professor Santisi

Chapter 4

Hermione hurried down to the Great Hall for her first day of her last year of school. Draco had already gotten up, and she had wanted to wish him luck, but Padma was already suspicious.

"Harry," Hermione called, catching up to him quickly. "Have you gotten your schedule yet?"

He shook his head. "To tell you the truth, I'm not looking forward to Potions. I'm finally taking Advanced Potions, thanks to your help last year, but I'm worried that I'll have to impose on you again, and ask for more help."

"That's fine," Hermione said, shifting her book bag. It was getting heavy already, and it was only the first day! "But I think Draco might be able to help you more, he's very good."

"Yeah," Harry said. "But, Luc's been watching us like a hawk, and same with Padma. I think she's catching on to us."

"I agree," Hermione replied quickly. "But there's nothing we can do. It was almost easier when we weren't all in the same dorm."

"Seriously," Harry replied grimly.

* * *

When they arrived at the Gryffindor table, they found Pandora a complete mess, and Ron trying to calm her down.

"Hermione!" Pan said, panicked, grabbing her good friend's arm and pulling her down. "It's that Professor Santisi! I'm having major déjà vu!"

"Really?" Hermione asked. "So did I."

"Do we know him from somewhere?" Ron suggested helpfully. They all wracked their brains.

"You know who he looks like," Harry said suddenly. "He looks like you, Pan."

Everyone suddenly looked at Pan, who was very irritated.

"Hey, you're right Harry," Ron said loudly.

Pan was very angry now. "We do not! There's absolutely no resemblance!"  
"Calm down, Pan!" Harry said, patting her hand. "Don't worry about it. If there is any resemblance, it's only passing."

Hermione noted quickly that he seemed very worried about her. Pan was still mad, and ate her food quickly and with alacrity.

Professor McGonagall handed them each their schedule.

"Oh no," Pan groaned. "I have potions with Slytherin first thing, that means my brother and all the rest of that hated crew."

"Hey," Hermione said, a little hurt.

"Except for my brother," Pan said quickly, realizing her error. "Sorry, Hermione."

"It's okay," Hermione replied, suddenly not feeling up to her toast. She looked at her schedule. This year it was jam-packed, but she was still unsure of what she wanted to do.

She wanted to specialize in muggle studies, out of loyalty to her family, but such things like Prevention for Muggle Cruelty didn't seem quite up her alley.

She supposed she could go into politics, but politics requires a certain temperament she wasn't sure she had.

* * *

She had History of Magic first, with the still dead, and still boring Professor Binns. He droned on and on about how History of Magic could shape their lives, and even she had a hard time paying attention to his ranting.

Then she had Transfiguration, which was enjoyable as always.

And finally, she had Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Slytherin.

* * *

Upon entering the classroom, she saw Professor Santisi sleeping at his desk, completely oblivious to the uproar that surrounded the room. She took a seat beside a very tired looking Harry, and took out her books.

The bell rang, and almost instantaneously, Professor Santisi sat up, alert and ready.

"Good morning class," he said. "How are you all?"  
"Fine," they replied, looking at each other in shock. How had he done that? They had sworn he had been asleep. But Hogwarts always seemed to have the most interesting teachers; perhaps this Professor Santisi was more than just a pretty face.

"I'm going to call roll," Santisi said, picking up a piece of parchment. He ran down the names.

"Dumbledore, Pandora," he called eventually, his dark eyebrows going up on his forehead.

Pan yawned. "Here."

He continued, passing Hermione, and finally reaching Harry.

"Potter, Harry?" His eyebrows went up even further, and Hermione stifled a laugh. Harry tiredly announced his presence, and wanted to vanish. Santisi continued and finished with Zabini, Blaise, and then rolled up the parchment, and turned to face them.

"Today we are going to go over a few rules, and such," Santisi said, standing, and beginning to pace in front of his desk. "And we'll discuss the core curriculum, and the role of Defense in your lives. Any questions?"

No one raised their hands, just stared at him blankly. The Slytherins snickered amongst themselves, and Hermione caught a few vague remarks about a "chicken-ass pretty boy."

"Good," he said. "First off, the rules. I don't have many rules, as you are all Eighth years, and should know the school rules by heart." He smiled to himself at this, and then proceeded. "However, this is a specialized class, only for those who are most advanced in Defense. If you are not willing to apply yourselves wholeheartedly, I am going to ask you to leave the class."

No one stood up.

"Very good. Now, my basic rules are: listen to me, no sleeping, respect everyone else, and no magic without permission. That's it."

Everyone nodded to their neighbors; they had heard all this before in almost every class for the past eight years.

"Now, this year, we'll be specializing on the study of the Spells of the Dead-"

Hermione's hand shot up.

"Yes Miss…" Santisi trailed off.

"Granger, Hermione Granger," Hermione said dismissively. "I've been thinking of pursuing a career in specialization of Spells of the Dead, and it is in fact an advanced section of magic, and many scholars discourage it being taught in school."

"Yes, Hermione," Santisi replied, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "That is correct. However, Professor Dumbledore asked me specifically to teach basic Spells of the Dead, no doubt for your benefit."

Hermione turned to Harry and said with a smile, "And for Pan's as well."

Santisi continued. "We will also be learning the psychology behind the Unforgivable Curses. And, for the end of the year, we will be doing a unit on the effects of Defense magic on the witch or wizard. There will be more of course, but that has not yet been planned. Oh, and I will be having several guest speakers come in, so be prepared for strange wizards or witches at the head of the classroom occasionally. Any questions?"

There were none, the bell rang, and Hermione hurried out into the hallway with Pan, who was busy clipping her fingernails.

* * *

A/N: Leave a review! ;) 


	5. Arguments

Chapter 5

They all convened at the Gryffindor table that night. Pan was staring at the teacher's table intently when Hermione arrived.

"I know that bastard from somewhere," Pan whispered absorbedly, her eyes fixed on Santisi. "Damn him."

"Oh, he's not that bad," Hermione replied mildly, helping herself to a sausage and a healthy scoop of mashed potatoes. "He's a rather good teacher; you can tell because his desk is organized."

"It's not that he's not a good teacher," Pan replied angrily. "But he's not who he claims he is, I know that."

Hermione shrugged. "What is it our business if he wants to go around under a pseudonym, Dumbledore would never hire a spy for the Dark Lord, if that's what you're worried about."

"Heh," Ron said darkly. "Remember, Quirrell was an agent of the Dark Lord, hell, You-Know-Who was sticking out of the back of his bloody head!"

"Well, it was a mistake, and it won't happen again," Hermione insisted, defending Dumbledore with her last shreds of dignity.

"And, he let Barty Crouch Jr. in," Harry said bitterly.

"He didn't let him in," Hermione said loudly. "Mad-Eye is one of the Professor's best friends, if Crouch fooled him, then of course he's going to fool us. Dumbledore has our best interests at heart."

"Of course he does," Pan said impatiently. "But even my dad messes up, he's only human. But we have more important things to worry about; who is this Santisi guy?"

"I'll talk to Draco," Hermione said quietly. "I'm sure he'll have an idea, I mean, he's pretty good with faces. He can recognize just about anybody."

Pan nodded desicively. "We need to get to the bottom of this before I go absolutely insane. By the way, has anyone seen Luc?"

Everyone shook their heads negative.

"Well, I'm worried he's thrown himself in the lake, or something stupid," Pan said conspiratorially. "He's not all there, you know."

"Well, he can swim," Hermione said in a very practical manner.

"How would you know?" Pan demanded.

Hermione blushed. "I dated him for a month."

Pan rolled her eyes. "What is it with you and my brothers?"

"I don't know," Hermione snapped, suddenly defensive. "Why is it any of your business? And what is it with you and Harry?"

"Nothing's going on between me and Harry," Pan hissed back. "I don't know what you're talking about, and isn't he dating some girl back near his aunt and uncle's?"

Harry looked at his plate.

Hermione wanted to slug Pan, and it was clear that Pan had the same sentiment.

"Whoah," Ron said, waving his fork around. "You guys cut it out. You're like best friends, and you shouldn't be fighting about something as stupid as this."

"He has a point," Harry said loudly.

"Harry, Ron, stay out of it," Hermione said angrily. "I could have said the same thing about a lot of your little spats, but I didn't."

"She has a point," Harry said, a little quieter this time. "I retreat from the battle field."

Suddenly, Pan slumped. "This is stupid. How are we supposed to defeat the Dark Lord if all we can argue about is how the other shouldn't date their relatives or friends. This is ridiculous."

"I agree," Hermione said, turning back to her mashed potatoes, relieved that she didn't have to admit defeat quite yet.

Pan sighed, and stared at her pumpkin juice. "I'm sorry." She seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry too," Hermione replied truthfully. "And it's fine if you and Harry date or whatever, I was just getting back at you for criticizing me about Luc and Draco."

"And, I don't mind if you date Draco," Pan said, sniffling slightly. "You do make him a better person, because he wasn't so great before hand, apparently."

Hermione shuddered. "He was awful."

* * *

Hermione and Harry went back to the Head's dorm room slowly, for, even on the first day, there was homework.

"Oh, I wish that there wasn't any homework," Harry groaned, dragging his feet unhappily. "This stinks."

"Homework is good for you," Hermione replied fiercely. "It may not be fun, but it will be very useful when you're interviewing for Auror work. So don't be so lazy."

Harry just moaned and continued to drag his feet more.

"Muffleberry," Hermione told Shakespeare when they arrived at the portrait. He swung open dejectedly, muttering something about he had writer's block. Hermione had half a mind to remind him that he was dead, but decided that that would be rude and out of order. She found Padma sitting in her chair, doing her work, while Draco was sitting on the rug, staring at the fire, the red and orange light catching in his hair. She was tempted to run her hand through his hair, but was worried that Padma might notice.

Draco looked up and saw them coming in. He grinned and waved slightly, but then turned back to the fire.

"I'm going to bed," Padma announced suddenly, and stood up. She flounced off to her room, leaving the rest of them in the silence of the common room.

"Draco?" Hermione asked as soon as she was sure that Padma would be out of hearing range. "Did you recognize Professor Santisi? Because he's driving Pan absolutely insane."

"I noticed that you two seemed to be having a bit of a spat," he said absent-mindedly, wrapping his hand around her ankle. "Yeah, I thought he looked a lot like Marissa."

"Marissa Malfoy?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Talfryn's daughter? The one that took us forever to find?"

Draco nodded. "That one."

Hermione thought about it for a second. "Yeah, you're right. He's a spitting image of her. Draco, when are we ever going to stop running into relatives of your's?"

Draco laughed. "Never, they're everywhere."

Harry snorted loudly. "They can't be everywhere, Draco."

"They reproduce like bunnies, Harry," Draco replied sarcastically. "I swear, the Malfoys have too many relatives. We're never alone."

Hermione smiled, and ran her hand through his hair.

"Got that right," she said vaguely. "We're all on this planet together."

* * *

A/N: Hey, sorry about the whole uh... eighth year thing... I don't know why I wrote that, don't worry, I'm not completely stupid. I think it was a typo. I'm sorry, I don't have time to fix it now, and I will change it eventually. As for the whole comment about description, I write out everything out ahead of time over the weekend, so I've only posted four chapters, now five, but I've written fourteen. So, around chapter fifteen, I'll add a lot more description:) Thanks for pointing out my mistakes, I'm glad that you guys can see them! Please leave another review! 


	6. Talking with Blaise

Chapter 6

Hermione was relieved to find that all her classes were appropriately difficult, not according to her standards, but they weren't too easy. She had worried that she would be placed in very easy classes, and would be the only remotely intelligent girl in the class. It hadn't happened before, but there was always a chance.

It seemed that the Head Boys and Girls had a great deal more to do than Harry had anticipated. Hermione knew that the Head Boy and Girl organized the Eighth year dance, but apparently Harry and Draco hadn't even known there was one.

"I have to dance?" Harry asked, panicked, remembering the Yule Ball. "I'm very bad at dancing-"

"Of course you have to," Hermione said primly, pursing her lips. "You're a Head Boy. You should dance; it's only proper. But don't worry about it now, that's not until May."

* * *

Hermione decided that it was a good time to meet with Blaise, whom she hadn't had a good conversation with since June. There were a few things she wanted his opinion on, one of them being a certain ex-boyfriend of her's.

She decided to have one of the school owls drop off a note at breakfast one morning, because she deemed that it would be too dangerous to try and intercept him in the halls. The note went something like this:

_Dear Blaise, _

_Meet me in the Owelry after dinner tonight. Make sure you're not followed. I think Padma already suspects me._

_ Hermione_

She tied the sparse note to one of the yawning tawny school owls, and released it out the open window. It flew around the tower once, and disappeared into the shining early morning sun. Hermione stood at the Owelry window for a moment longer, and then hurried down the stairs and back to her breakfast.

* * *

Hermione hurried back up the familiar steps of the Owelry after dinner, her footsteps hitting the stone with a slap. She finally reached the top; and was relieved to find no one there. She busied herself with a book she had brought, (Famous Muggles Who Were Actually Wizards, by Kyla Snardanki) and she waited for Blaise with her usual patience. It seemed to Hermione that she spent a great deal of her time waiting for things to happen.

Finally, he deemed a good time to appear with his usual grace and flamboyant manners.

"Hermione," he said, giving a deep bow once he reached the top of the stairs. "I received your letter this morning, and I am honored to be in your illustrious presence." As usual, he was dressed impeccably with his cloak thrown over his shoulder like a matador's cape. There was not a spot of dust on his shiny shoes, and he seemed vaguely out of place in the Owelry, which was covered in bird droppings and dusty feathers that clung to the walls.

Hermione grinned at his blatant humor. "Evening, Blaise. How are you?"

"Perfect, if I might say, my lady," Blaise replied with a grin. "And you are?"

"Quite well," she said, adopting a royal air as if she was donning a majestic gold dress. "But, my dear squire, I have a matter of utmost urgency."

Blaise dropped his servile attitude and was immediately attentive. He leaned heavily against the wall next to her, his vivid green eyes fixed on her's. In many ways he reminded her of Harry; though Blaise was suave and debonair, whilst Harry was scruffy and always on the edge of insanity.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione also deigned to give up the act, and became normal, though she missed the gaiety the conversation had started out with. "You've seen Luc, haven't you?"

Blaise furrowed his brow. "Yes, he's in my house now. He has a few friends, mostly low class trash-"

"Blaise!" Hermione said angrily. "It's stupid comments like that that put us in this awful war! Haven't you ever thought of that? It doesn't matter what 'class' someone is, as long as their character has merit. And how is someone supposed to have a good personality if everyone treats them as if they're horrible and no good, just because of their birth."

Blaise flushed. "I understand Hermione, they're not really low-class, or trash. They're jerks. Luc doesn't know whom he's getting mixed up with. And he doesn't trust me; or Draco."

Hermione shook her head tiredly. "I don't know what to do about him, I'm worried about him. He's getting into trouble. He has no idea that Draco is his half-brother, and that he has a twin."

"Draco's his half-brother?" Blaise asked, clearly surprised, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Didn't I tell you?" Hermione asked, cocking her head. "I thought I did, but that's okay. He also has a half-sister, but I can't tell you who that is. She goes to Hogwarts."  
"Ah," Blaise remarked. "That's interesting, because Luc does look like Lucius. I thought maybe they were related, especially after Luc got sorted into Slytherin.

"Yeah," Hermione said sarcastically. "The family resemblance is really showing up all over the place."

Blaise stood at the open window, looking out pensively. "Well, the Malfoy clan is bigger than anyone ever realizes. All pure-bloods are related, rather closely too. Draco is actually a second cousin of mine."

"You're kidding!" Hermione snapped. "Good god, when am I ever going to escape you all?"

Blaise laughed. "Draco and I have been trying to do that for forever, you're not alone."

* * *

Hermione took the long way back to the tower, wanting to think about all the things she and Blaise had talked about. Thoughts raced through her head, and she was shocked to find that she was at loss for what to do.

Eventually she arrived at the tower, and gave Mr. Shakespeare the password. He swung open reluctantly, and she found Draco alone in the living room, staring fixedly at the fire.

"Hey," she said, kissing him on the cheek as she sat down beside him on the couch. "What's up?"

He continued to stare at the fire as if he hadn't heard her. Finally, he spoke, and when he did, it was quiet and depressed.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?" she asked. He shrugged, and continued to stare at the orange and red flames licking the log and the walls of the fireplace. There was a mirror over the fireplace, and Hermione found herself gazing at her reflection.

Her thick hair was slightly tousled; her brown eyes rimmed with red. Staring at her tired and bedraggled appearance, she suddenly felt exhausted.

"Come on, Draco," she said, standing. He stood up slowly, and then took her hand in his. It was clammy, and she felt a shiver of cold run down her back, as if she was touching a corpse.

When they reached her room, he released her hand, kissed her lightly, and then continued up to his room without a word.

She hurried into her room, and realized that the room was freezing. She hurried over to the open window, and shut it with a bang. She looked down at her still numb hand, and realized that he had been digging his nails into the side of her hand, and she hadn't even noticed. The crescents of his nails were imprinted into the fleshy part of her hand, reminding her of the moon.

* * *

A/N: Hello... leave a review! And for all of you who live in America, or are an American living over seas, happy fourth!  



	7. Madame Pince's News

Chapter 7

Hermione hurried down the stairs and into the living room. Her brown eyes were ringed with dark and red; she hadn't been able to sleep at all. She pushed the portrait open, and hurried down the stairs at an alarming speed, nearly tripping over one of the broken steps.

She arrived at the Great Hall, to find the entire Gryffindor table in an uproar.

"What's wrong?" she asked a very somber Ron, who was sitting next to a sleeping Pandora.

Ron shook his head emphatically, his bright red hair flopping. "You won't believe what Professor Snape has assigned…"

"What do you mean? We haven't had Snape yet," Hermione said.

"Hufflepuff has," Ron replied darkly. "Hannah came out in tears; and some say she hasn't fully recovered yet."

Hermione stifled a frustrated sigh. "What's the homework?"

"We have to write an entire essay, ten pages, small handwriting, about the medicinal value of the Inksap plant," Ron said, groaning as he spread a huge pat butter over a large piece of white bread.

She sat down beside him, shaking her head. "If you'd paid attention at the beginning of fifth year, you would know quite a bit about the Inksap plant. It's really quite easy; I'm sure you'll be able to get ten pages on it."

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed indignantly, dropping his bread. "Ten pages? No doubt he'll deem that my handwriting's too big, and that my ten pages is equivalent to four pages!"

"Then write more than ten," Hermione replied coolly. "I don't understand what all the fuss is about."

Ron continued to sputter. Hermione calmly took a couple pieces of bacon and a waffle. She generously spread maple syrup over the waffle, and proceeded to eat.

Harry sat down next to her presently, blinking rapidly.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm just really tired. I stayed up pretty late studying some spells for Transfiguration, I figure I really need to buckle down this year if I want to make Auror qualifications."

Hermione nodded, and passed him the butter.

"But," she began. "As an aside, do you think you could help me out in doing a little research on Santisi? We've got some doubts on him; we just want to do a little background check. For Pan's sake."

"Sure," Harry replied, and then took a bite of his toast. "Sounds fine to me, I mean, we need a project of some sort. Also, Hermione-" He paused, and then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Can you help me find some decent spells that will work to repulse Voldemort, I can't help but think that he won't be dead for much longer."

"Definitely," she replied ardently. "We all need to brush up on our Defense and Offensive skills, hopefully Professor Santisi can help us with that."

* * *

Before dinner Hermione headed to the library for the most reliable of her usual sources: Madame Pince. Many of the other students hated her with a passion, but Hermione had found that Madame Pince was invaluable. The librarian had helped her when Draco had been dead, and had even told her a piece of little known gossip about Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

Madame Pince was stamping books when she arrived in the dimly lit Hogwarts library, muttering about a bunch of nasty bookworms that she had found in the set of Magic Encyclopedias.

"Hello Madame Pince," Hermione said politely, standing at the desk, the perfect image of proper primness. Madame Pince looked up fleetingly, and then returned to her stamping.

"Hello, Hermione," she replied cursorily. "Can I help you this evening?"

"Yes Madame Pince," Hermione said genially, leaning on the counter, tapping her foot. "I've really enjoyed Professor Santisi's class, and I was wondering if you knew anything more about him."

Madame Pince looked up, her wizened eyebrows rose an inch. "Hermione, you never seemed like the type."

"What type?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, I've had many young girls come here asking about the Professor, but out of personal reasons," Madame Pince replied, stamping the book in front of her with especial force, sending up a plume of dust. "You never seemed like that type of girl."

Hermione struggled not to laugh. "Oh, of course not. I'm asking for purely academic reasons."

Madame Pince nodded as if she believed the star pupil, and nodded slightly.

"Well, to be quite honest, there is nothing about Professor Santisi anywhere," Madame Pince said surreptitiously. "And the good man refuses to divulge any information of any sort about his past. I assume the Headmaster knows a great deal about his former jobs and the like, but he also does not wish to disclose any information what so ever."

"That's very strange," Hermione replied blandly. "Nothing at all?"

Madame Pince shook her head. "Nothing at all. It's as if he doesn't exist. But we all know that's impossible. Why would Dumbledore hire a man who would deceive us?"

* * *

Hermione plopped down beside Harry, Pandora, and Ron at the dinner table. They were already attacking the shepard's pie with such enthusiasm, you'd have thought they'd been starved.

"Guess what?" she said, poking Pan excitedly. Pan was busy shoveling food into her face, and barely noticed that Hermione was talking to her.

"Waassht?" Pan asked, her mouth full. Hermione recoiled in distaste and started filling her own plate.

"I'll assume you meant 'what'," she said coolly. "I talked to Madame Pince today."

They all stopped eating, and stared at her.

"What about?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione glared at him angrily, and made stabbing motions with her fork in his general direction. "Don't be so rude. She was a fantastic source of information."

"What about?" Harry asked again, this time with a tone that Hermione deemed more respectable.

"Well, I asked him about Professor Santisi…"

She could her Pan swallow all her food in one gulp.

"What did she say?" Pan gasped, practically drooling. "I want to know, please tell me, Hermione!"

Hermione grinned smugly. "She says that she couldn't find any information about the Professor at all. It's as if 'he doesn't exist.' And we all know what that means."

Pan was practically jumping up and down. "He's a fake! He's a fake! I can't wait to tell Dad!"

Harry grabbed her and shoved her down onto the bench. "Don't tell your dad anything! He won't approve of us interfering with school affairs, and we'd like to figure this out on our own," Harry growled.

"Oh fine," Pan replied sulkily. "But we should tell him."

"When we have more information," Hermione said, her eyes glinting mischievously. "And we'll find plenty of that. I think we should go straight to the source."

She, Harry, and Ron all looked at each other, grinning madly.

"His office," Hermione finished gleefully. "He'll never know what hit him. The Gryffindor Gang strikes again!"

* * *

A/N: Indeed, the Gryffindor Gang strikes again! Mwa-ha-ha! Yeah, and if you're still wondering what's going on with Draco, the reasons won't come up for another chapter or two. Please leave a review! 


	8. Santisi's Classroom

Chapter 8

Professor Santisi clapped his hands to begin class, and everyone fell silent suddenly.

"Today we'll begin our unit on the Spells of the Dead," the Professor began, his deep voice stretching into the darkest corners of the room, ringing in their ears.

"Now, the Spells of the Dead are the most volatile and erratic of all spells that fall under Defense Against the Dark Arts. Spells of the Dead are considered Dark Magic, but can be used in a positive manner, and then they are not considered such."

The professor paused to let this sink in, and then continued.

"To begin the unit we'll start with a little history. The first known use of the Spells of the Dead was by well-known wizard, Merlin. Merlin wrote about the use of these spells as a way of gaining information from the dead in his famous autobiography, The Life and Times of A Medieval Wizard. This is recommended reading, though it is not required for this class.

"The next historical mentioning of these spells was in Leonardo Da Vinci's well-known Defense book, Defending Yourself Against All Sorts of Evil Goblins and Demons. This book is also recommended reading, but since it is in Latin, it is not required. In Da Vinci's book, the Spells of the Dead are referred to as 'wicked tools to commune with the dead and use them for atrocious purposes; such as war-fare, and hunting.' It was around Da Vinci's time that you may remember from History of Magic, there was a rebellion of Dark Art Wizards, who used the Dead to fight battles.

"Those summoned from death are nearly invincible. They will fight until they are torn to shreds, and a wizard from that period described them as 'behemoths with skin as white as parchment, and eyes blacker than death.' The 'Dead' are souls who have been dead of some time. According to one anonymous source, those very skilled in the Spells of the Dead can raise those who recently died back to life. But this requires much skill, and it is extremely dangerous, many have died in the attempt to bring their loved ones back from the dead."

Hermione found herself looking over at Draco, who was staring at the wall with feigned disinterest. He was clearly paying close attention, but he managed to fool the other Slytherins into thinking he didn't care.

Professor Santisi continued. "These Spells are highly advanced Dark Magic, and can only be used by a wizard or witch who has completely immersed themselves into darkness and all magic we normal ones deem evil. It is said that the Dark Lord Voldemort is a skilled Necromancer, and even though one of your class mates managed to kill him last year," the Professor motioned to Harry. "It is entirely possible that the Dark Lord will be able to raise himself from the Dead."

"That's possible?" Lavender squeaked. "I thought that he was dead, and we didn't have to worry about him ever again."

The Professor shook his head. "Contrary to whatever the Daily Prophet spews out, it is most likely that he will find a way to do it. The Dark Lord is no stranger to death, even though it is what he fears most. If he manages to conquer death, there can be no speculating as to what will happen."

Hermione looked over Pan, and they both frowned. The Professor was right, how were they supposed to defeat Voldemort a second time? Hermione dismissed the thought quickly, knowing that this was not the time to consider such things.

"Professor," she said, putting up her hand.

"Yes?"

"I disagree with your statement about all Necromancer's being 'completely immersed in the Dark Arts,'" she said. "Though it may be true that many Necromancers are evil and such, there are many historical references to Necromancers that have used their skill for good. For example, Haddassah the Gentle, a very famous witch in the seventeenth century, was known for her skills in helping ghosts find their way to the Other World. Another example would be Alfredo the Astonishing, a potions master of great renown, who used his skills in Necromancy to prevent a demon from killing the King of France."

Professor Santisi looked a little taken aback.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that," he said apologetically. "Hermione is quite write, I had forgotten about Haddassah the Gentle and Alfredo the Astonishing. Thank you for that enlightening comment."

Pan grinned at Hermione, and they did a high-five. Professor Santisi grinned at their enthusiasm, and turned back to the chalkboard. He began detailing the homework on the board, which included reading from The Dark Arts: How to Avoid it and Repel It, Advanced Level by Jabez Widinshins.

The bell rang, and once everyone had written down the homework, they filed out one by one, talking amongst themselves about the latest school gossip.

Professor Santisi had put his head down and was now sleeping. Hermione approached his desk to ask a few questions, when she noticed something in his metal trashcan. It was a piece of parchment covered in elegant green writing. She immediately recognized the handwriting. It was McGonagall's.

Hermione leant over furtively and reached in quickly. She felt a twinge of guilt as she placed the piece of parchment in her pocket. Professor Santisi stirred in his sleep, and she practically leapt out of the room.

"What took you so long?" Harry asked as they walked to Transfiguration.

Hermione shook her head, nearly tripping over a small first year. "Nothing, nothing at all.

* * *

After dinner, Hermione sat in front of the fire in the living room finishing up her homework. The fire hissed merrily and she adjusted her weight as her foot began to fall asleep. Something crackled beneath her. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter she had discovered in Santisi's trashcan.

She opened it hesitantly, looking around to make sure there was no one else there.

_Dear Leonardo, _the letter said.

_Thank you for taking this position on such short notice. I understand that you have been out of the country for a good ten years, and there are some things you should be aware of. One of these is that there are many of your relatives that attend this school. Should one of them recognize you; you must leave immediately. This is for your sake, to keep you safe from Voldemort. I know you'll protest, and say that Voldemort is no longer looking for you; but Leonardo, this is not the case. You will be teaching several of the children of your second cousin, his children are all in their seventh year: Draco, Pandora, and Luc. It is unlikely that the latter two will know you, but Draco has an excellent memory, and a penchant for faces. There is no chance of danger from Draco; but beware of Luc. He is like his father. _

_Leonardo, (it is very strange to call you this, have you been using this name for a great deal of time?) Dumbledore is very optimistic that nothing harmful shall come of this, but you may not know this, Voldemort has entered Hogwarts many times, and he will find a way to do it again. He has many enemies in this castle, and he would like to destroy them all._

_Sincerely, _

_Minerva_

Hermione folded up the letter and stuck it in her back pocket, her breathing quick and panicked. What has she unearthed?

* * *

A/N: You know you want to review... :) 

Anyhow, recently I downloaded a piece free software called the Gimp, which can be used for digital artwork, and I was having fun... so I created a bunch of posters/backrounds for my books. :) So here are the url's for them, I have only done the first two books of the Hermione/Draco series, so have fun with them. Sorry if their sorta amateur and juvenile, but I've just started doing this sort of stuff. If I make better one's, I'll post them.

http/i16. 


	9. Discussions with Luc and Draco

Chapter 9

Hermione rushed up the stairs of the tower, panting slightly, until she finally reached Draco's door. The door was painted a light red, and there were no lights on in the room. She slammed her fist against the door.

"Draco! Draco!" she yelled angrily. "Open the damn door!"

She heard his footsteps in the room, and finally he swung the door open. His hair was tousled and he was in his pajamas, like he had been sleeping. She felt slightly bad, but she shoved the letter into his hands. He skimmed it, his grey eyes getting wider with each sentence.

"Whoa," he said, his voice slurred with sleep. "What's this mean?"

"It means that he's not who he says he is," Hermione snapped. "It means that he's related to you somehow!"

"Not again!" Draco groaned. "You've got to be kidding me! No way… This cannot be happening again."

"It is," Hermione replied dourly, leaning against the doorframe. "No one is more upset about this than me. I'm really getting sick of your family, they follow us everywhere."

"I know, I know," he muttered. "Do you want to come in?"

"Sure," she said, slightly startled by the abrupt change in topic. She entered slowly as he dragged his feet back in. He lit a candle, lighting up the room with its brilliant yellow glow. Dumbledore had decorated the room as if it was a child's playroom, with brightly colored lamps and vivid multi-colored striped rugs. The general color theme was yellow and white, and it reminded Hermione of buttercups.

"Wow," was all she could say.

He grinned, and took a seat in a beanbag. "Yeah, isn't it great? I guess Professor Dumbledore knew that I really wouldn't enjoy sleeping in a room with all Slytherin colors."

"The yellow is definitely an improvement," she said. "That was nice of Dumbledore. I mean, he didn't have to do this for you."

"Yeah, he didn't," Draco relied with a smile.

"Okay, back to the letter," Hermione said after a long pause of uncomfortable silence. "Don't you think we should to a bit more research on your family history, like who Lucius' second cousin is?"

Draco nodded. "That's a good idea. But for now, I want to go to sleep. You head back to your room."

"Good idea," she said with a nod, and then exited, closing the door gently behind her gently

As she walked down the stairs she realized that she and Draco had grown very far apart.

* * *

Hermione was walking to the Great Hall the next morning when she recognized the back of a very familiar head.

"Hey Luc!" she called, running to catch up with him. He turned around, and he smiled when he saw her. She felt her heart constrict when she remembered the idyllic summer they had spent in France together. And then she remembered the last summer when he had put them in jail, and her happy feelings faded momentarily.

He waited for her to reach him, and only started walking once she had caught her breath. His grey eyes were light and contented, as if he was very pleased with himself.

"How are you?" he asked as they walked down the long hall side by side.

"Great, and you?"

"Really good," he said with a nod.

Hermione smiled up at him. "I heard you've made some friends."

Luc smiled and nodded, his dark hair bouncing slightly with each nod. "Yeah, I have. I wasn't really expecting to; being placed in Slytherin isn't really the best of all things. I thought that all of them were evil; but they aren't really."

"That's true," Hermione said gently. "It's good that you're making friends. It was hard for me to make friends when I first came here. I was friendless for a good month or so."

Luc rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. Hermione, you're perfect, how could you not have friends?"

Hermione was a little hurt. "I am not perfect, and I'm sorry you think of me that way."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice full of guilt and something Hermione couldn't quite place. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever," she said dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

When they reached the Great Hall they went their separate ways, Hermione to the Gryffindor table, and Luc to the Slytherins.

She took a seat by Ron, who was examining his bacon closely.

"There is a hole in my bacon," Ron announced loudly. "Do you think Professor Trelawney will think this a valuable foresight on my predictions chart?"  
"Oh, that's a good one," Harry said excitedly. "Can't you imagine it? A hole in your bacon means you will be hit by a Bludger and have a great big hole through your stomach!"

"Don't be stupid," Pan giggled. "It means that Ron's going to have eight hundred kids-"

"I don't think that's going to happen," Ron joked.

"Heh," Hermione said with a shrug. "Maybe you'll adopt eight hundred kids, who knows?"  
"Good point," Pan said with a grin.

Hermione slipped the letter into Pan's hand. Pan read it quite quickly, and then passed it back, her eyebrows furrowed. Hermione continued to pass it to the others until both Ron and Harry had read it.

"That's bloody confusing," Ron said, passing it back. "So Professor Santisi is not really Professor Santisi, he's a cousin of Draco and Pandora's, and is in hiding from You-Know-Who."

"I don't think that being a teacher is the best way to hide from Voldemort," Pan said lightly. "I mean, isn't it a rather public figure?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "It's almost as if he wants to get caught. Heck, I bet half of the Slytherins know that Voldemort wants him. He's been in hiding for ten years, why would he come out of hiding now?"

"Who knows?" Pan said grimly. "But we should probably find out how he's related to Draco, I mean, that's pretty damn important."

"Definitely," Ron said grumpily. "I mean, we can't leave Draco hanging like this, can we?"

"Of course not," Pan said. "Professor Santisi is my cousin too."

"Good point," Ron replied, suddenly remembering. "Is it just me, or do Malfoys reproduce like bunnies?"

* * *

A/N: A very good point Ron... Okay, the urls for the posters did not turn out in my little author's note, so if you want to look at them, the urls are on my bio page. Just copy paste them into your browser, and check them out. Otherwise, if you don't want to do that, just leave a review! 


	10. Fighting with Draco

Chapter 10

"Ah, Hogsmeade," Ron sighed loudly as they passed through the pillars with the winged boars and took a left toward the village. "The smells, the candy, the butter beer… I need this so badly."

"Most certainly," Pan replied, adjusting her headband. This headband was one modeled after the famous muggle artist, Andy Warhol. It had a picture of a soup can on it, and it was very eccentric.

Hermione nodded. "I'm so excited to be leaving school, if only for a few hours. We really do need a break."

"So, what are we doing?" Harry asked, breaking the monotony.

"Well, we should probably go to Zonko's," Ron said eagerly. "I'm low on a couple things, like smoke bombs and acid pops."

"No acid pops!" Hermione snapped. "I caught one of the older boys in Ravenclaw trying to give one to Dennis Creevey. Not a brilliant idea Ron, especially since you're in your last year."

Ron seemed a little downcast that someone had stolen his idea, but remained optimistic, no doubt because he could get something else as equally dangerous.

"I'm going to the Three Broomsticks," Hermione announced politely. "I'm meeting Draco."

"I want to come too!" Pan yelped, but quickly changed her mind when Harry elbowed her with great enthusiasm.

"I'll see you all somewhere," she said, wrapping her scarf around her neck tighter. The autumn winds were picking up, and golden leaves skittered past her feet. The others waved goodbye and continued down the main street toward Zonko's, while Hermione hurried into the Three Broomsticks.

The Three Broomsticks was warm and inviting as usual, with glowing candles and a marvelous fire.

Rosmerta was at the bar pouring drinks. When she saw Hermione she gave her a wave.

"He's upstairs!" she yelled over the din. Several of the patrons smiled amongst themselves as Hermione turned bright pink and hurried up the steps.

She found the room in which they had been set to meet and knocked on the door lightly. It swung open, and she entered to find Draco sitting with his back to her, staring at the fire.

"Hey," she said, sitting beside him. "How are you?"

He shrugged. "I'm okay. Not bad. You?"

"Great," she replied with false fervor.

He looked at her and smiled faintly. "No, you're not. You're mad at me, aren't you?"

She stood suddenly and went over to the table. There were two butterbeers on the tray, and she opened one and took a great gulp. The warmth slid down her throat and she sighed in relief. She pulled off her scarf and hung it on the hat rack.

"Yes," she said finally. "I'm a little mad at you."

"Why?"

"Well, I've been making a pretty big effort to see you frequently, and talk to you when I can, and I feel like you've been ignoring me," she said, anger creeping into her voice. "I shouldn't be the only one making an endeavor to make this relationships work."

He looked back at the fire. "We've had this argument before."

"Yeah," she snapped. "We have. And, it's you every time. Pulling away, pushing me away. If there's someone else, bloody tell me."

He continued to stare at the fire.

"There's no on else," he said finally.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know whether to be relieved or upset. If you had been going with someone behind my back that would make things a great deal easier. I could just dump you and move on."

"You want to dump me?" he asked, his voice the same level monotone that she hated. He always adopted this awful drone when he was upset or angry, but didn't want to yell.

"No, I don't want to dump you, Draco," she muttered. "I still love you, but apparently, it's very one-sided."

"Do you want to break up?"

"No," she said. "But there's no point in us going out if we don't know each other anymore. Ever since we got back to school you've been steadily ignoring me more and more."

"Hermione," he said, looking up at her. His eyes were dull and lifeless, like he'd done something terribly wrong, but couldn't bring himself to tell her. "I think we should separate for a while, you know. Just put our relationship on a break."

"So you don't like me anymore," she said, willing the anger and fear from her voice. "That's fine."

"It's not that I don't like you anymore," he said patiently. "It's just that I'm not comfortable in a relationship right now."

"And what were you for the last four months? You were fine in August," she snapped. "Fine, whatever. You just wallow in your self-pity. We're over."

She grabbed her butterbeer, her scarf, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

She handed Rosmerta some money for the butterbeers and the room, and headed out onto the street. She kicked at a pile of leaves angrily, and then decided that she needed to think. And there was only one place where no one else would go.

As she had thought, no one was near the Haunted Shack. She plopped down on a rock and stared at the building with a mixture of hate and disgust. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that she hated Draco Malfoy and he was an evil jerk; but she knew that wouldn't help the situation in the slightest. She took a big swig of her butterbeer, very glad that there was no alcohol in it.

What the hell was his problem? She knew he was nice guy, and that he really did love her, but he had been so weird lately. It was almost as if he had been brainwashed or something.

She hated boys with a passion at that moment, and just wished whole-heartedly that they would simply get brains, or leave her alone.

* * *

A/N: OOKKKKKAY... I'm seriously pissed off about this fic. First off, I have weird people telling me that because I made one small, minor, stupid mistake, I haven't read the books. Ever heard of a typo? To read the offending comment, check out the reviews. Personally, when I am dealing with three minor and major plot lines, I feel entitled to at least five mistakes. This chick accuses me of not reading the books, when clearly, there are tons of horrid stories out there with factual errors every three words. 

Moving on. Not many people seem to be reading this, and sometimes I get the feeling that this one isn't as popular as the first two stories, so give me your feedback/opinion, and I'll figure out what I'm going to do about this whole mess.

And finally, if you're going to leave a review, it's fine if you point out my mistakes, I appreciate that. It's when people make stupid unbased comments that really make me furious. Sigh. I'll stop ranting. Thanks for reading this far if you have.

If you want, leave a review.


	11. Dumbledore and Santisi

Chapter 11

After Hermione had finished her butterbeer, she hurried back to Hogsmeade, feeling that time with her friends would cheer her up. She found them outside the Three Broomsticks, arguing over the merits of snakeskin as a healing agent.

"No, you don't get it," Pan snapped angrily at Ron. "Snakeskin is a very potent healing agent because it has that stuff in it that regrows and shit."

"How could anything to do with snakes be remotely healing?" Ron moaned. "Snakes are stupid."

"Hey Hermione," Harry said suddenly, realizing that she had joined the group. "Where's Draco?"

She shrugged, struggling to keep from telling him everything.

"Let's go get some butterbeer," Pan said, dragging them all in. "I'll pay, I just got my allowance."

They all sat around a table waiting for their butterbeer, while Ron and Pan continued to argue about various things among them being, the merits of cats (Ron thought they were awful), and the benefits of bezoars.

Finally, Madame Rosmerta brought them the tray.

"Hello, Hermione," she said, passing the silent girl a glass. "Draco left just half an hour ago in a bit of a gloom, did you two get in a fight?"

Hermione laughed sourly. "You could say that."

"Are you two still going out?" Rosmerta asked, looking at Hermione sympathetically.

"Not any more," Hermione replied with a shrug. "It's okay though, we weren't really suited for each other."

The others stared at her as Madame Rosmerta clucked disappointedly and sauntered off to help other customers.

"When did this happen?" Pan asked.

"Just an hour ago," Hermione said.

"Wow," Harry said, blinking rapidly. "Look."

They all whipped around.

There were Professor Santisi and Professor Dumbledore sitting down at the bar together, talking very intently.

"Anyone got Extendable Ears?" Pan asked wickedly, having been introduced to them over the summer. Ron pulled out a new one he had just gotten from Zonko's, which now carried a line of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

Ron held it up and the others scrambled to hide it, so it looked as if he was simply holding something up to his ear.

Hermione handed him a piece of paper, and he began writing down what they were saying. The conversation, in Ron's horrible handwriting, went like this:

Dumbledore: M- Leonardo, did you get Minerva's letter?

S: Yes, I got the letter. I threw it away, and later when I realized that I should probably burn it, I went looking for it in my trashcan and found that it was gone.

D: Do you think one of the students took it?

S: Someone in the Gryffindor or Slytherin Eighth year class.

D: Ah.

S: Yes, well. I can only hope if it fell into any hands, it fell into the right ones.

D: Indeed. I'll talk to a few of the students.

S: Thank you; that will be greatly appreciated.

At this point Professor Dumbledore looked in their direction, and Ron had to hide the ear under the table.

"I think we have enough," Hermione whispered, folding up the letter quickly. "Enough to have a good idea of what's going on."

Harry was rather confused. "Why did Dumbledore start out by calling him by a name that started with a M?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "But I'll talk to Draco."

"Would you rather I did?" Pan said gently.

Hermione remembered suddenly, and then nodded.

"You and I can talk to Sirius," Harry said quickly, grabbing her arm. "Let's go."

* * *

Hermione and Harry hurried up to the Head's tower. Draco was sitting in front of the fire, and they both pointedly ignored him and hurried up the steps to Harry's room.

Harry started his fire with a sharp flick of his wand, and they both sat down in front of the fire. Harry muttered the spell, and suddenly Sirius' head loomed in the fire.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to contacting me," Sirius muttered, shaking his shaggy head. "I thought you were still moping around about P-"

"No, no!" Harry interrupted, quite panicked. "We're not going to talk about that, Hermione's here and we have a few questions for you."

"Oh," Sirius said, and then grinned at Hermione. "How are you Hermione?"  
"Well, thanks," she replied, even though she was not well in the slightest. "And you?"

"Great," he said cheerfully. "I've finally been put to work, you know. Things like talking with Persephone and planning meetings. Relief effort."

"Good," she said, meaning it.

"How's Draco?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied, colder than she intended.

Sirius frowned, and then realized what she was implying. "Oh. Persephone's not going to be happy about this."

"It really isn't her business," she snapped.

Sirius shrugged. "He was brought back to life for a reason, Hermione. Surely you realize that, don't you?"

"I suppose," she replied hesitantly. "I don't know."

"Well, just think about it," Sirius said gently. "But, first off, what are your questions? I always love to help out."

"Right, do you know who Lucius' first cousin is?" Harry asked, leaning forward so he could see Sirius better.

"First cousins? That would be Marissa Malfoy, and the deceased Mihangel," Sirius replied lightly. "Mihangel and Marissa were pretty nice for Malfoys. It was a shame about Mihangel."

"What happened to him?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "He got involved with Natalya Malfoy, which is not a good idea, especially since she was his cousin. He was also a part of a movement against Voldemort, separate from ours. His family disowned him, and Voldemort took his betrayal as a deliberate affront. He was killed a couple months after his twentieth birthday, by Lucius, his own cousin."

"Oh that's so sad," Hermione said, tears welling behind her eyes. "He was so young."

Sirius nodded. "We all were. Mihangel was just unlucky."

* * *

Hermione sat in front of the fire in her room, staring at the picture of herself and Draco on the mantle. They were waving and laughing in front of the house on Knockturn Alley, holding hands.

She pushed the picture face down and turned away to go to bed. After a moment though, she turned back and pushed it back up. She stared at Draco, his grey eyes twinkling and wondered what had happened.

* * *

A/N: WAAAAHHH! Okay, I'm done sobbing. 

I want to say thanks for all the support that I've gotten from you guys! You're all wonderful, and you inspire me beyond words! (Does that work? I don't know, I mean, I am writing a story after all...) ANYHOW! About what happened the other day: I emailed wildmagic1621, and they apologized. NOW, I know I said a couple mean things about them, and I take those comments back immediatly! If they are nice enough to apologize, I think they deserve my respect. Thanks to everyone who stood up for me, but please realize that I'm over this, and don't boycott wildmagic1621 or anything, because we're on good terms now. And, I'm also sorry for causing undue stress by emoting and unloading a lot of crap on you guys, because even though I was seriously contemplating giving this story up, you guys definetly made me see the plus side of writing for I've gotten to talk to so many people; you guys are the one's who make this all worthwhile. So once again, thanks to everyone, including wildmagic1621, because you all are so great. Oh, and sorry if the story has taken a turn for the melodramatic, I was going through a rough time when I wrote this chapter... heh. They say write about what you know... and even though I'm not familiar with magic (I wish), "I'm no stranger to heartache." :)


	12. Harry and Pan

Chapter 12

Hermione found herself avoiding the ways she knew Draco walked, and told herself that she was simply taking the scenic route, refusing to admit that she didn't want to face him.

It grew harder and harder in class to ignore him. Every time something interesting happened she wanted to catch his eye and make faces at him, but now she couldn't, and she had to be satisfied with giving knowing glances to Pandora, Harry, and Ron.

Most of all, she didn't want to admit that she missed him. She repeatedly told herself that she was better off without him, and that he was a heartless jerk. But she knew this wasn't true; he had been loving and supportive before. So she continued to delusion herself.

But despite the fact that she no longer associated herself with Draco, she progressed in her spying on Professor Santisi.

It was clear that Professor McGonagall had been wrong about Lucius being Santisi's first cousin, because both Lucius' first cousins were dead. But something kept nagging at the back of Hermione's mind. She desperately wanted to know, who Professor Santisi was, and what he was doing at Hogwarts.

The Gryffindor Gang was now whole again, and Hermione began spending more and more time with Harry. They had always been good friends, even best friends, but things and people had interfered.

* * *

"Hey Hermione," Harry said one afternoon as they were heading to Transfiguration after lunch. "You know Pan?"

"Of course I know Pan," Hermione replied irritably. "She's one of my best friends."

"No, I meant that, as I want to talk about Pan, do you want to as well?" Harry said patiently, switching his book bag to his other shoulder nervously. "Since she's off talking with Dumbledore, I thought today would be a good time to talk about her."

"What did she do?" Hermione asked in a rather patronizing tone. "I'm sure it's not worth talking about her behind her ba-"

"She didn't do anything," Harry said hastily. "I was just wondering if you knew what she thought about me."

"Oh," Hermione said suddenly. "I get it. You like her."

"Shush!" Harry said violently.

"Well, why don't we talk about it after dinner," Hermione said. "Ron's coming and if you don't want him to know yet…"

Ron came running up. "Thanks for waiting you guys," he muttered. "Glad to know I'm loved."

"You are," Hermione replied flippantly.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair, Pan was too busy eating to really talk, Harry was clearly on edge about Pan, and was too nervous to say anything remotely intelligent.

After dinner, Hermione grabbed Harry by the elbow and dragged him to the tower.

Once they were out of hearing range, she turned to him.

"What is it about Pan?" she asked, pushing him down on the couch. "You should tell me before you burst."

Harry did indeed look like he was going to burst, his cheeks were flushed, his lips pressed together tightly.

"Okay," he said finally letting out a great rush of breath like he'd been holding it. "I really like Pan."

Hermione was expecting more, and she waited for him to continue. Eventually what he had said stank in, and she sat back in slight surprise.

"Well," she said slowly. "I'm not sure that's a good idea… Since you have a girlfriend back on Privet Drive and stuff."

Harry blushed. "I broke up with her."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged hesitantly. "I don't know, you seemed to be pretty preoccupied with Draco, and now that you guys are over, you seem to be a lot less worried."

"You could say that," Hermione replied glumly. "I miss him though. It's very strange, not having a boyfriend anymore. But the more I think about it, we weren't ever really boyfriend and girlfriend. More like friends with benefits."

Harry shook his head. "You guys were made for each other: you're both very know-it-all, you love being right, and you share the same interests."

"Nah," Hermione said tiredly. "Let's talk about you and Pan. That's much more interesting."

"Sure," Harry moaned gloomily. "She doesn't like me, I know it!"

"Harry don't be so negative," Hermione said, putting her arm around his shoulders and motioning to the air in front of them. "It's entirely possible that she likes you; you're just too scared to do anything that would interest her. Ask her to the next Hogsmeade trip."

Harry pushed away her arm. "Aw, Hermione, what if she says no? What happens then?"  
"You'd be disappointed," she said with a slight shrug. "But you don't have anything to lose."

"That's easy for you to say," Harry retorted.

Hermione had to laugh, because he was right.

* * *

Hermione lay in bed listening to the birds singing outside the tower, even though it was long past dark. She wondered what kept them up, and why they were plaguing her sleep.

"Go away," she muttered, slamming the window shut with a loud clang. "What the hell is your problem?"

The birds were silenced and she was trapped in a cocoon of warm air. She quickly cast a circulation spell, and lay down to sleep.

_"Hermione," a familiar voice came from the blue, scolding her. "What have you done?"  
She opened her eyes and found that she was sitting on a cliff. Ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, blue and green, beautiful. Mist rolled off with each crash of a milky green wave, and she could see seaweed drifting in the foam. _

_"I haven't done anything," she said to Persephone, who was sitting next to her. Persephone shook her head, her golden curls brushing against Hermione. _

_"Don't be foolish Hermione. You know what I'm talking about."_

_Hermione was slightly affronted. "If you're talking about Draco, it was more his choice than mine. He wanted to put our relationship on a break, not me."_

_Persephone pursed her lips angrily. "Hermione, stop being so mule headed. There is more at work here; Draco is not speaking of his own free will."_

_"He hasn't been possessed or anything, has he?" Hermione asked, exasperated. _

_Persephone shook her head. "Luc."_

Hermione awoke with a start and suddenly everything was clear.

* * *

A/N: Once again, thanks for all the support! You guys rock! Okay, just leave a review and all... You know the drill. :) 


	13. Yet Another Argument

Chapter 13

Hermione threw on her clothing, the moonlight streaming in her open window. It was late October now, but somehow she never felt the cold. Perhaps it was the lack of Draco's love, but she never noticed anything anymore. She shook her head fiercely, realizing that she was being foolish and hopefully romantic.

But she felt she had a duty to talk to Draco, and at least find out if Persephone was right.

She raced up the stairs to the top level of the tower. Draco's door loomed at the top of the flight, ominous and brooding. She slammed her fist against it, the side of her hand stinging from the impact. Finally, the door swung open and Draco stood in the door looking very disheveled and exhausted.

"Hello," he said, a perplexed look on his handsome face.

"Hello," she replied calmly. "I just had a dream."  
"As did I," he said, motioning for her to continue.

She took a deep breath. "Persephone came to me, and said that there was a reason you had broken up with me."

"Yes," he replied vaguely, looking acutely uncomfortable. He was playing with his nails, which she had noticed he did when he was nervous or angry about something.

Her face tightened. "What did Luc say about me?"

Draco turned away, trying to close the door. She stuck her foot in the crack and repeated her question. He turned around and glared at her, his hostility apparent.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"What did Luc say about me?" she reiterated furiously. "Tell me."

Draco wiped his hand over his face, looking so worn-out that she felt a small twinge of guilt over waking him up at such an un-godly hour. He looked up at the ceiling, and then back at her.

"He said that you two had been going at it behind my back," he said flatly. "For a good year or so."

"And you believed him?" she shrieked, suddenly livid. "How stupid are you?"

"I should have known," he said dully. "You two were so close, it was so obvious that-"

"You are so stupid!" she burst out. "He threw me in jail as well, if we had been going out, do you think he would have done that? How could you be so thick?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Well, how was I to know that he was lying?"  
Hermione wanted to scream. "He threw you in jail for god's sake!"

"He's my brother," Draco retorted. "Why shouldn't I trust him?"

"He's a Slytherin," Hermione said, quickly losing her patience.

Draco was clenching his fists now. "If you haven't noticed Hermione, I am too."

"You're different from the rest of them," she hissed. "You're special."  
"Apparently Luc is more special," he replied sarcastically.

"He's insane! Stark raving mad!" Hermione sighed, suddenly tired of all the arguing and yelling. "If you had simply trusted me, we never would have gone through all this."

"He's not insane," Draco replied stubbornly.

"Well, he's insane enough to make up lies from nothing, and get you to believe them," Hermione said coldly.

She left him standing there, and practically ran down the stairs, trying to get away from his idiosyncrasies and stupidity.

* * *

She arrived at the Gryffindor table the next morning to find everyone else completely silent. Hermione sat down next to Ron and took a couple pancakes.

"Hey," she said. Everyone just sort of stared blankly. "What's up?"

"Quidditch game today," Harry said palely. "Against Slytherin."

"I forgot," she said suddenly. "I'll be sure to come. Please knock Draco off his broom for me."  
The silence was broken by a small tinkle of laughter from Pan.

"Yeah," she said. "Push him off hard!"

* * *

After lunch, Ron was coming back to the tower with them to prepare with Harry for the game, and he suddenly remembered something he had wanted to tell them.

"I was standing on the pitch, randomly hitting balls with one of the bats," Ron said guiltily. "Which I know I'm not supposed to do, so please don't get me in trouble, and I saw someone on the other side of the stands, talking."

"Who was it?" Hermione asked nervously, giving Harry one of her classic worried looks.

"It was Professor Santisi!" Ron said excitedly. "Talking to Dumbledore!"

Hermione gave Harry a troubled look, and she was so confused she nearly walked into a suit of armor.

"They were arguing about something," Ron continued, pulling Hermione away from the armor. "Very heatedly. They were genuinely pissed off at each other, and this morning over breakfast they kept giving each other glares over the oatmeal."

"Interesting," Harry mused. "Do you suppose this had anything to do with his alibi? 'Cause we still don't know who he really is."

"I thought he was a cousin of Mr. Malfoy's," Ron said, bewildered.

"Lucius' first cousin are dead," Hermione replied succinctly.

"Ah," Ron said gently. "But you were able to bring Draco back from the dead, do you think it's possible that Lucius' cousin was brought back?"

"Natalya is dead," Hermione said self-assuredly. "And I have been told by several sources that Mihangel is dead. Maybe I should talk to Madame Pince…"

"Good idea," Harry said with a nod. "But let's not think about that right now, I'm freaked out enough as it is."

* * *

Hermione and Pan made their ways up to the stands, stopping a few times so that Hermione could tell off a series of third years for peeing on the stairs.

Finally, the reached the top and got seats next to Neville and Hagrid. Ever since Lee Jordan had graduated, little Colin Creevey, who wasn't so little anymore, had been announcing the games, and Hermione could see him now, fiddling with the counter, Professor McGonagall leaning over him to make sure he was doing it right.

Hagrid had out a pair of omnoculars, and Hermione had brought her's as well.

"Yeh ready to see Gryffindor beat Slytherin, eh?" Hagrid asked gruffly, fully aware of how she and Draco had parted ways.

She shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

He patted her on the shoulder and she nearly fell off the stands.

"Yeh'll be fine," he said gently.

As Hermione stared over the grassy Quidditch green she hoped that she would be.

* * *

A/N: Sigh... I've read The Half Blood Prince twice now, and it's good. If you haven't read it yet, do so. I'm not going to give away anything, because that would be mean, but just read it. :) And leave a review before you go finish it. :) 


	14. Quidditch Match

Chapter 14

Suddenly, Colin's voice boomed in the stadium, loud and imperious.

"Welcome to the Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin game!"

There was a loud cheering from the hundreds of students that filled the stands. After their welcoming applause, the players walked out onto the pitch, glaring at the opposite team furiously. Hermione could make out Harry's shock of black hair, and then Draco's white blond amongst the emerald green of the Slytherins.

Madame Hooch made Harry, who was captain of the Gryffindor's, shake hands with Draco, who was Slytherin's captain, and it seemed cordial from up in the stands, but Hermione could tell by Harry's stance that he was pissed off.

"On my whistle… Three… two… one…!" The whistle blew, loud and insistent. The players launched themselves into the air with frantic anger. There was more than just the simple Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry in the air. She could see Luc in the Slytherin crowd, jeering and yelling insults at the Gryffindor players. Hermione felt bile rise in her stomach and she wondered what she had ever seen in him.

"Ok, the quaffle goes to Gryffindor, and then to- oh, never mind, intercepted by Slytherin- and then- Oh good block by Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor Keeper, the quaffle is back in Gryffindor possession- and GRYFFINDOR SCORES!" Gryffindor let out a racket of joy and hullabaloo. Hermione could see Harry and Draco circling above the game, looking for the Snitch.

"Quaffle in Slytherin possession, it goes to the Slytherin chaser, Carter Doran, then to Sindyn Sarlin, and OOH! Steal by Gryffindor's Rhia Smith, and the Quaffle is going the other way! AGH! What's this? Another steal back by Doran and he passes to Sara Tsyth, and then to Sarlin and… oh no…. Slytherin scores," he said this so dejectedly that Professor McGonagall gave him the eye. The Slytherin stands erupted in screams and cheers.

"Okay, the Quaffle is in Gryffindor possession, and Smith heads down the field, passing to Aaron Winds, and then to Kailey Winston, and she aims, but – blocked! Slytherin Keeper Nicholas Adston blocks it admirally, and the ball is passed to Dorin, and then Tsyth, and oh no… Slytherin scores…"

Hermione looked away from the screaming Slytherins and searched the skies for Harry. She found him, hovering above the game, his eyes darting wildly.

Draco was on the other side of the field, also fixatedly looking for the Snitch. A Bludger whipped by him, but he ignored it as one of the Slytherin Beaters smacked it off toward Ginny.

Suddenly, both Draco and Harry saw the Snitch at the same time. They both dove.

"LOOK!" Hermione screamed. "They've both seen it!"

The swooped down, but suddenly, pulled away; it had disappeared. Hermione sighed dejectedly, but then realized that Gryffindor had scored yet again and the crowd was cheering.

"Ok," Colin started again, taking a deep breath. "Slytherin possession, Sarlin streaks down the field- and both seekers have seen the snitch!"

Hermione looked up in horror to see a both Draco and Harry streaking toward the field again, a blur of green and red opposite, dark and light, and she was about to close her eyes when a Bludger came out of no where and hit one of them.

She heard herself screaming as she saw Draco's eyes widen, and then he fell off his broom, hitting the ground with a loud thud. At first she thought that maybe he and Harry had collided, but the red covering the grass was a not crimson robe, but blood. He was vomiting blood.

Hermione found herself hurrying down the stairs, her feet clattering on the wooden steps, and out onto the vivid green pitch, where Harry was cradling Draco's head in his lap. As soon as he saw Hermione his eyes rolled up in his head and he went out cold. The game had been forgotten completely, and Hermione could see Professor Dumbledore rushing over.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispered. "What the hell was that?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, and Hermione noticed a smear of blood on his wan face. "That Bludger was tampered with. There's no way an ordinary Bludger would have had so much force behind it, as well as going specifically for Draco. And having been the prey of a Rogue Bludger before, I recognized the patterns. I tried to warn him, but he dismissed it."

"Why is it always us?" she groaned.

Dumbledore appeared next to them and pressed his firm fingers against Draco's pale temple, and motioned for Madame Pomfrey to come forward.

"Hermione, Harry, please meet me in my office in half an hour," Dumbledore said calmly. "We have much to discuss."

With a flick of his wand, Draco was on an invisible stretcher, and they took him to the infirmary, leaving Harry and Hermione standing in the middle of a blood soaked field.

* * *

They walked together to the Headmaster's office, their head bowed in silence. Upon reaching the gargoyle, they loitered outside the door, waiting for Dumbledore to come along. 

Finally they heard the light familiar footsteps of the Professor, and they stopped leaning against the wall. Hermione shifted her feet nervously, hoping that their talk with Dumbledore wouldn't take long. She wanted to see how Draco was.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione," he nodded at her, and for an instant, Hermione thought perhaps that he knew more than he let on, but that was gone in an flash of light. He turned to the gargoyle.

"Acid pops," he said distinctly, and the gargoyle scowled.

"Fine, fine," the gargoyle muttered. "If you insist."

They all walked up the rotating stairs and when they reached Dumbledore's office, he sat down behind his desk and massaged his temples for a moment. Hermione and Harry stood in the doorway uncomfortably. They had been in Dumbledore's office numerous times for various misdemeanors, but for the first time, they were hesitant. It was if everything had changed so much that they no longer felt familiar with the man who had nurtured and taught them.

"Sit, sit," he said, motioning for them to do so. They sat slowly, as if they were afraid of what Dumbledore would say. He folded his hands on his desk and looked at them over the top of his crescent moon glasses, his blue eyes steady. Hermione took comfort that he was calm, because she was anything but.

"So, what happened up there, Harry?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, messing up his hair. "Well, I saw that this Bludger seemed to have a certain fixation on Draco, and having once been attacked by a Bludger, I told him. He laughed and said-" Harry looked at Hermione quickly as if he was afraid of what he said next would offend her. Dumbledore motioned for him to continue, so he did. "He said that it didn't matter if it hit him."

Dumbledore simply nodded, though Hermione felt as if all the blood had been leached from her. She felt the world spin around her, and she clenched the armchairs until her knuckles turned white.

"So, what happened next?" Dumbledore prodded.

"Well, we saw the snitch a few minutes later, and we both dove for it. I had a bit of a head start; so I didn't see the Bludger coming. Next I knew, Draco was crashing toward the ground, and I flew after him, hoping to catch him. I guess we were too close to the ground for a teacher to help, but I landed next to him, and he started puking blood all over me."

"Internal bleeding," Hermione said faintly. "From the Bludger, he must have massive bruising."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said quietly. "And why was not Professor Hooch informed?"

Harry's face set angrily. "He asked me not to."

Dumbledore nodded, realizing Harry's conflicted emotions.

"Is he going to be okay?" Hermione blurted out, ignoring the silence that had settled around them. "He's going to live, right?"

"He will be fine," Dumbledore said stiffly, leaning back in his chair, his hands folded into a steeple, his blue eyes fixed on the sky outside. "And physically he will recover."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

"Harry will attest that being knocked out of the air is not a pleasant trip, and having someone trying to murder you is never a wonderful experience."

"I still have nightmares," Harry explained to the still scared Hermione. "We'd better go see Draco, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded knowingly, and the two filed out of the room, their pace quickening as soon as they reached the stairs. Dumbledore listened to them leave, and then looked back out the window.

* * *

A/N: HA! I wrote this chapter just before I read the newest book, and I will freely admit, that I was wwaaaaay off on some things that happened in that books. But some things... I won't say what... I got right! Whooh! Yipeeedoodaa! Okay, I'm good. Leave a review, please. :)  



	15. The Infirmary

Chapter 15

Hermione was flooded with memories as she walked down the hall toward the infirmary. She had horrible memories, of Draco's doppelganger, and of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. She could see the scuff-marks where she had fallen when she was running from Draco's doppelganger, and when they stood in front of the infirmary, she could see faint traces of black dried blood that had spilled when Voldemort had died. According to popular gossip, the house elves had scrubbed and scrubbed, but the blood had stained the floor black.

She pushed the infirmary door open and saw Madame Pomfrey leaning over a white bed. Harry grabbed her elbow as she staggered, suddenly wishing she hadn't come. She felt a strange sense of déjà vu; after Draco had been spattered with potion, she had gone to visit him, and been scared to death that he would push her away and call her a mudblood. And she felt that reigning sense of guilt, as if it was her fault again. The infirmary was full of guilt, and the pain of it all over washed her like a giant wave. She herself had told Harry to 'knock Draco off his broom for her,' and she hadn't really meant it. She didn't want him to get really hurt, she had just wanted him to feel her pain for just a second.

"Don't worry," Harry whispered in her ear. "It's just Draco."

"What if he's in pain?" she whispered back, panicked.

Harry was confused by her words. "Of course he'll be in pain, he was hit by a Bludger."

"I-I can't watch him be in pain," she replied, stuttering slightly. "I just can't."

"You've got to," Harry replied, gripping her arm tightly. "You just have to. Sirius always said that you have to face your fears, or they become your life."

Hermione nodded as if she wanted to agree, but her head told her no. "No, no. I don't want to, Harry."

He pulled her toward the bed. Madame Pomfrey heard their footsteps slapping against the cold flagstones. She leaned back and turned to face them with a fierce frown.

"No visitors," Madame Pomfrey snapped, but then recognized Hermione, and she adopted a much more motherly facial expression. "Oh, hello dear. You and Draco were in and out of the infirmary almost weekly last year, weren't you?"

Hermione smiled nervously. "And it looks like he's back. Is he awake?"

"Yes," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "A short visit, and make sure Harry isn't too loud." Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a brief warning look, and then bustled off to deal with a girl who had managed to get her wand stuck in her arm.

Harry dragged Hermione forcefully to the bedside. Draco lay with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping.

"Hello Draco," Harry said, a bit louder than necessary. Madame Pomfrey shot them a cautioning look, and then turned back to pulling a wand out.

"Hermione and I are here to see you," Harry continued, lowering his voice. Draco slowly opened his eyes.

"Hello," he said quietly. "How are you?"

"Not bad," Harry said with a shrug. "Considering that the game still isn't finished, eh?"

Draco smiled, and flinched in pain. Hermione drew back, and bit her lip, wanting to run, but knowing that Harry would never forgive her. Draco looked up at her, and his eyes softened, and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something.

"I'll be going now," Harry said quickly, fluffing his hair. "Got to get out of this uniform. I'm all sweaty… a tad bloody." He grinned down at Draco, and scampered out of the room faster than Hermione could say 'wait!'

"I'd better be going as well," she said, turning to leave abruptly, vowing to get back at Harry for making her come.

"No," Draco said forcefully. "Not yet."

"Uh, sure," she said, pulling up a chair. "What is it?"

He seemed a bit nervous now that he had made her stay. "I'll need the homework. I can't move for at least a week."

Hermione laughed bitterly, putting her hands on her hips. She had realized that he was using his injuries as a way to accuse her. "This sounds familiar. So, are you using me again, Draco Malfoy?" She dragged out his name with such hatred and disdain that she surprised even herself.

He recoiled at the sound of his own last name, and Hermione's heart constricted suddenly. "I'm not using you Hermione, you were the one who was using me."

Hermione stood up, tired of his proclamations of her 'betrayal.' "I never used you, I only loved you."

He laughed slightly, which seem to cause him some pain. "Yeah right, you can't love."

She raised her hand to slap him, but then realized that it would be in extremely bad taste to hit an invalid. She shook violently as she spoke, remembering what she had sacrificed for him.

"You bastard. I loved you, and all you did was stab me in the back, by not trusting me and throwing me away once you had gotten your kicks. I went to hell and back for you. And before the game this afternoon, I wished that you would feel the same pain I was, and I got my wish. Now I wish that you had died again."

* * *

She turned and walked from the infirmary, and didn't even bother to look over her shoulder. It wasn't until she got back to her room before she realized what she had said. She took the picture from the hearth, and pulled it out of it's frame. The fire crackled maliciously as she dropped it into the red and orange flames. They glowed blue as they ate up the picture of them, and the last thing the two in the picture did before they were consumed by the flames, was kiss. Hermione watched the ash float to the bottom of the grate, and the fire blazed. She was so cold, and the image of herself kissing Draco was burned in her mind, like a brand, red hot and full of agony.

She felt something trickle down her cheek, and she reached to brush her hair back when she realized that she was crying. Crying for what she had lost, and the fact that all of this had started in Paris. The city of love, she thought ironically, fighting to stem the tears as she clutched the window frame to keep from falling over. And all she could see was herself in front of the Arc d'Triomphe, Draco's arm around her, and Luc sitting in the background, his eyes fixed on them as they kissed as if there was no tomorrow.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I've gotten a lot of complaints about how much I hurt Malfoy... And, for those of you who like him, I do too. I just like using injuries as metaphors for their relationship. And don't worry, he won't die again. That takes too much work on Hermione's part, and right now, if he did die, I'm not so sure she'd go back for him. :) Anyhoo, leave a review please!  



	16. Christmas at Home

Chapter 16

Time passed for Hermione, and before she knew it, it was Christmas break. It had been decided by the Gryffindor Gang that they would split up for the break; Hermione would return home, and Ron and Harry would go back to the house on Knockturn Alley.

* * *

They stood together at King's Cross Station, waiting for the Weasleys to arrive, as well as Hermione's parents. Finally, her mother and father appeared, standing in the shadows watching her, with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

"Well, I'll see you guys after break, okay?" Hermione said, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

"See you Herm," Harry said glumly, and they all waved goodbye.

* * *

The car ride back to their home in the suburbs was quiet, and as they passed the identical houses that led up to their quaint little home, she realized that she hadn't seen her parents since late June. 

"How are you?" she asked, breaking the silence nervously. Her mother smiled tremulously, glad that Hermione was speaking to her again.

Her father coughed gently. "I preformed a root canal this morning," he said gruffly, his hands fixed to the wheel.

Ms. Granger rolled her eyes, and patted her husband on the arm. "We're doing wonderful. Your brother is going to be spending the winter break with us, he got a week off from his job."

"Where is he working now?" Hermione asked, surprised that she had forgotten.

"He's still in school," Ms. Granger said. "But he's been interning at his father's law firm, and he likes it a lot. He's hoping to apply for a position there as soon as he graduates in June."

Hermione had forgotten that Gaelen's dad was a lawyer; her father and Gaelen were so much alike, sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren't related.

"How has school been?" Mr. Granger asked, abandoning the old topic. "Have you been doing well?"

"Yes, actually," she replied, not meaning to sound conceited. "I've been doing quite well. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do, I think I might be an Auror."

"What's that?" her mother asked politely.

"They fight dark wizards," Hermione replied frankly, having forgotten that her parents didn't understand, or want to understand, these sorts of things. It wasn't their world.

"Isn't that dangerous?" her dad asked, swerving around a branch in the street.

"Yes," she said. "But, not that dangerous. I mean, being a dentist is rather dangerous in it's own way. Don't you occasionally get psychos who hate getting their teeth cleaned?"

"Well, yes," Ms. Granger said. "But that's not the same thing."

"Sure it is," Hermione replied flippantly. "It's just a minor occupational hazard. Most Aurors simply do paperwork."

* * *

Hermione dragged her suitcase up the stairs and into her old room. The room was neat as usual, but a fine layer of dust covered her old belongings, and she knew that her mother hadn't bothered to clean for some months. As if she knew that Hermione wouldn't be coming back soon. 

She tiredly dumped her clothing on the bed, and put it away. Afterwards she plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. There was a yellow watermark that had always been there, and refused to go away, despite all the efforts of her father and brother. It was strange to be back in her old bedroom, without Draco, and she felt out of place. As she lay there, she remembered Draco, and wondered where he was staying for winter break.

"Dinner!" Mr. Granger yelled up the stairs. Hermione thundered down the stairs, and found Gaelen putting up a giant green tree. His face was buried in it, and she could vaguely hear him yelling something about spiders, and occasionally cussing.

"Hey!" Hermione said, hugging him from behind. He plopped the tree down, turned around, and hugged her back.

"How are you?" he asked cheerfully, pulling off his fuzzy hat. It had started to snow again, and Hermione was reminded strongly of her few and wonderful winters at Hogwarts.

The tree barely fit in their small living room, and as it was, the top of the tree was squashed into the ceiling, and had left a questionable brown stain on the pristine white wash.

"Not bad," she replied with a shrug, helping him steady it. "You?"

"Great!" he replied glibly. "I got a pay raise at my dad's law firm, and school has been going well. Cho got a job in London, at a small antiques store, and we've been seeing a lot of each other."

"That's great," Hermione replied, hoping that she sounded enthusiastic enough. She had a hard time appreciating her half-brother's extremely pretty girlfriend, she and Cho had never hit it off.

"How's Draco?" Gaelen continued unknowingly.

Hermione kept a straight face, although she was tempted to start cursing him, knowing that Gaelen would understand completely. "I don't know." Gaelen gave her a cursory glance, but seeing her stoic face, wisely refrained from comment.

Gaelen had had his share of failed romances. He had always been popular and a jock, something that Hermione could never understand. He had been a star football player in high school, and even now, he was all muscle. So, to accompany his stellar reputation, he'd had a series of blonde beautiful girlfriends, none of whom Hermione had particularly liked. But each one of them had left him in the dust after discovering that he was actually quite normal. So, Hermione was relieved that he had finally found the girl of his dreams, but she definitely wasn't Hermione's idea of a perfect match.

"Dinner!" her mother called from the kitchen, and Hermione helped Gaelen prop the tree up, and they hurried into the kitchen, where a giant bowl of steaming onion soup sat on the oven, waiting to be ladled out into earthenware bowls.

Hermione took a deep breath, and sat down beside her brother at the small four person table. Ms. Granger had already set the table, something Hermione had always done while at home, and for a second, she felt a twinge of regret, as if she'd lost something.

And then, the doorbell rang. Hermione jumped up, something stirring in the back of her mind.

"I'll get it," she said automatically, and hurried out into the hallway.

* * *

A/N: Guess who's coming for dinner? Leave a review, please:) 


	17. An Unexpected Guest

Chapter 17

Hermione hurried down the hallway to the front door. She reached for the doorknob, and twisted. She pulled the door open, and there standing on her front porch was the most least likely person imaginable. Draco stood, wearing his black trench coat, a red scar wrapped around his pale neck, staring at her with shattered mirror grey eyes.

"Yes?" she asked coldly, matching her voice to the frigid air outside. "Can I help you?"

"You sound like he's trying to sell you bibles or something," Gaelen said gruffly, coming up from behind her. "Hello Draco, how are you? Odd time to be dropping by."

"I'm fine, thanks," Draco replied, his eyes fixed on Hermione's.

"Would you like to come in?" Gaelen asked, glancing from his sister to her ex-boyfriend. Her cheeks were glowing red in anger or from the cold, Gaelen couldn't tell which.

"That's okay," Draco said breathlessly, still staring at Hermione as if she was an apparition from the sky above.

Gaelen shrugged. "Suit yourself." He walked back into the house, unwilling to stand in the cold any longer.

Hermione continued to hold his gaze, staring levelly back at him.

"Why are you here?" she asked finally, folding her arms across her chest, and tapping her socked foot on the brick. It had been cold when she first opened the door, but now her anger was getting the best of her, and she could no longer feel it.

He shrugged, but never moved his eyes. "I don't know."

"It just struck you to come here, and bother me?" she said sardonically, and finally tore her eyes from his. She stared out over the green hedges that lined the neighbor's property, and finally turned back to him.

He shook his head. "Not to bother you."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "Then why are you here?"

He seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he spoke. "Because I talked to Professor Dumbledore."

"So what did the good Professor say?"

"He said some stuff about Luc," Draco said, shrugging again, as if he was afraid of what he would say next. "He said some things that have made me rethink what I'd said earlier."

"Really?" Hermione asked mockingly. "So funny that you wouldn't trust me, and I was telling you the same thing."

He flushed, but maintained his cool expression. "Well, I wanted to say sorry."

Hermione let out a laugh, and she was surprised by how bitter she sounded. She had thought that she was over him; and now she realized that she never would recover from his betrayal. "Sorry? That won't do this time, Draco Malfoy. And you can't buy back my love with chocolate roses either. You have to earn it."

He looked up at her, and Hermione saw sincerity in the eyes that had mocked her, stared at her in adoration, and cursed her.

"I know that," he replied calmly. "I've always had to earn it."

Her lower lip trembled as she realized that he was right.

"So what are you going to do to prove it?" she asked, her voice shaking under the intensity of his stare.

"You'll see," he avowed solemnly.

There was a long awkward pause of pregnant silence, and finally Hermione made a decision.

"Would you like to come into dinner?" she asked, biting her lip.

He seemed surprised, but then nodded.

Hermione led him into the kitchen, where her mother had already gotten together another seat and placing at the table. Gaelen winked at her, and Hermione almost wondered if Gaelen had read her mind, or at least overheard their conversation.

"Hello Draco," Ms. Granger said, kissing him on both cheeks. "It's so good to see you again. You are like part of the family now."

He smiled shyly and sat down beside Hermione, who was moody and silent. Dinner was served, and as typical in the Granger family, they ate in silence.

* * *

After a delicious dessert, Hermione led Draco back out to the front step. 

"So, what next?" he asked.

"I feel like I did when we first started going out," she laughed miserably. "I feel so nervous, and alone. I don't know whether to trust you with my heart."

He took her hand in his, and his warmth surprised her. She realized how much she had missed his familiarity, the comfort of his arms and the feel of their fingers intertwined.

"I know sorry isn't enough," he said gently. "But that's all I can do for now. I'll make it up to you some day."

"I know you will," she said before she could stop herself. "But what will I do until then?"

"Trust me," he said, and then recognized his error. He parted his lips to apologize, but she held up her finger.

"Don't apologize," she said quietly. "I always trusted you, it was you who didn't trust me. I've always believed in you Draco, believed in your smile, your beauty, and your kindness. I almost forgot how mean you could be, how assuming and cold."

He looked down, his fair hair falling in front of his face, masking his expressions.

"But I always forgive you," she continued helplessly, holding out her hands in supplication. "I always let you start over again. Because I know you love me, and I trust that."

He looked back up, and she saw that his eyes were filled with tears. "But is that enough, Hermione? Is that trust enough? I've hurt you so many times, and sometimes I wonder why you still love me." One tear slipped down his face, and she found herself smoothing it away with her fingers.

"It's enough for me," Hermione replied, her smile wavering.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she realized that somehow, her hands had found his, and she was clutching them as if he might disappear at any second.

"No," she laughed shakily, as a tear slid down her cheek. "But if I don't try, then how will I ever be happy?"

He caught the tear on her cheek and kissed it gently.

"Life is about chances, isn't it?" he said dreamily, still holding her hands tightly.

"No, it's not," she said, still smiling. "It's about dreams.

* * *

A/N: Sigh... Even though this isn't the end, I always like happy endings. Please leave a review:) 


	18. Presents

Chapter 18

Christmas arrived, bright and cheerful, and Hermione was surprised to find several disgruntled owls at the foot of her bed that morning, anxiously waiting to continue in their delivery of the presents. She untied a rather large and cumbersome package from Hedwig, who then proceeded to take a drink from the bowl of water Hermione kept by the window for the passing owls. She then stretched her wings, and soared off into the early morning, leaving Hermione to untie the rest of the owls. Hermione pulled off the white envelope tied to the first package, and put it in the pocket of her dressing gown.

She left the brown wrapped packages on her bed, and hurried down stairs, where she could hear her parents talking, and the sound of something frying. And there they were, standing in their pajamas in the kitchen, frying up tomatoes and kippers.

"Happy Christmas," she said, hugging her dad. He smiled, mussed her hair, and turned back to his tomatoes, which, as usual, were burning.

"Morning dear," Ms. Granger said cheerfully, passing her daughter a cup of steaming hot tea. "Gaelen will be up any minute, and after breakfast, we can start opening presents."

Hermione nodded, and headed back into the living room, cup in hand. She pulled the white envelope from her pocket. The letter was written on creamy thick parchment, and on the front, in red ink, was her name.

She placed her cup on the side table and hesitantly opened the letter. The red lettering popped out on the pale page, and she was reminded of blood on someone's face.

_Dear Hermione, _the letter went.

_I am writing to you from Knockturn Alley. Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to offer a place for me to stay this Christmas, and I must admit, it has been most pleasurable. The others, though at first were a little cold, and I can't blame them, have warmed up considerably. I suppose they realize that it wasn't just my fault this time. I hope your holiday has been wonderful, and the Weasleys and the rest of us were hoping you could join us for Christmas dinner at four, at Knockturn Alley? If you abstain to remain with your family, we'll understand completely. Otherwise, just come as you are._

_Love,_

_Draco_

Hermione grinned as she folded the letter up, and wondered what the Weasleys would think if she showed up in her pajamas and dressing gown. She knew that Cho had been invited to Christmas dinner, and she wouldn't want to stay.

"Mum?" she called into the kitchen.

"Yes?" Ms. Granger poked her head out of the kitchen door.

"Do you mind if I go to Christmas dinner at a friend's house?"

"That's fine," Ms. Granger replied distractedly. "Will you stay here for the rest of your vacation?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"Well, come eat your breakfast, so we can get all the presents opened before you have to leave."

Hermione looked over at the tree, and was surprised to see that there were piles and piles of presents around the base of the tree, nestled in little mountains of brightly colored paper and ribbons.

* * *

After opening presents, Hermione took her new things up to her room and dumped them on the bed. For some reason, they had given her loads and loads of cooking tools. She pondered her mother's gift of a food processor, and her father's gift of a bread-kneading machine. Finally, she reasoned that they thought she would be getting a place of her own after school let out, and she would need various items, such as food processors and bread-kneading machines. 

She placed the food processor aside, and took one of the presents that had been delivered that morning. She opened the letter, and found a brief and cheerful note from Harry, also inviting her to dinner. She opened the box, and was overjoyed to find a used (but in well condition), copy of Dead Good Magic by Séamas O'Conner. She had been looking for a good deal of time, but it had been out of print for fifty years, after being banned by the Ministry for 'dark magic.' But upon opening the book, Hermione was overjoyed to discover that it was simply Dead magic, not Dark magic, and as she had discovered in the last year, there was a remarkable difference between the two.

She put the book aside reluctantly, and opened Ron's messily wrapped box. Within, was a beautiful black sweater with silver and sparkling beading of a Hippogriff that looked awfully like Buckbeak. The letter was a haphazard mess, with smeared ink, and terrible spelling. But Hermione refrained from editing, coming to the conclusion that Ron was on vacation, and was exempt.

Another present had been delivered while she was opening things with her family, and she opened the letter, to reveal that Pan had sent her a present. For some strange reason, she was surprised. Pan had always been the forgetful sort, and remembering presents just didn't seem like something she would do.

_Hermione-_, the letter began.

_Dreadfully sorry this is a bit late, but I was in such a rush to finish something I was doing (I'll tell you about it at dinner!) that I completely forgot to send it. I got it some time ago, and I think you'll like it a lot!_

_Hearts, Pandora _

Hermione opened the small box to find a onxy covered amulet of a skull. On the back, it said in miniscule writing, _Member of the Society of the Dead_. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and decided that she wouldn't wear it until Pan fully revealed it's properties, and what the Society of the Dead was. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to know, but, Hermione was used to the unexpected.

Finally, she took the package that had had the letter from Draco, and she pulled it over onto her lap. She tore off the brown paper to reveal a large white package. After pulling the lid off the box, it revealed a wide narrow velvet box. She opened the box, and inside it was the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen.

It was a double loop of black pearls, with diamond shaped rubies as spacers. It came with a matching pair of earrings, with dangling pearls that sparkled in the morning light. Beneath the necklace was a small note.

_This necklace belonged to Natalya. I found it in a small pawn-shop in a small muggle suburb not far from London. You wonder how I knew it was her's? Examine the clasp on the necklace. Love, Draco_

Hermione looked closely at the clasp, and there, engraved in the gold, was the name, Natalya Malfoy. Hermione let it slid through her fingers, and then placed it lovingly back the box. What was it with her, Draco, and rubies? They seemed to be on every piece of jewelry she had ever gotten from him.

The Weasleys had also sent her a present, of a beautiful red knitted sweater, and a large bundle of mince pies.

And the last package had no note, or any indication as to whom it had come from. It was wrapped in the regular brown paper, and tied with a piece of dark twine. Hermione cut the twine gingerly, and then unwrapped the box.

The box within was unadorned and almost boring, but Hermione knew better than to judge a book by it's cover. She opened the box, and was most surprised by what she found within.

It was a simple chain, but on the chain, was a locket. The locket was silver, and engraved with a skull. She picked it up, and a small folded up piece of paper fell from it. She opened the piece of paper, and found, written in straight slanted block writing, these words:

_This necklace belonged to my cousin. She would have wanted someone like you to have it. _

It was not signed, and there was no evidence of any harmful intent. She looked at the back of the locket, and nearly fell off her bed. For, inscribed in tiny writing on the back of the locket, was the owner's name. Natalya Malfoy.

* * *

A/N: And you thought the whole thing with Natayla was over, eh? Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Okay, just leave a review:) 


	19. Christmas Dinner

Chapter 19

Hermione arrived on the step of the house on Knockturn Alley a minute before seven, the locket and accompanying note weighing in her pocket and in her conscience. Mrs. Weasley opened the door, and wrapped her in a great bear hug.

"I can see that you're wearing the sweater I knitted you," Mrs. Weasley said, very pleased. "Is it warm?"

"Quite!" Hermione answered truthfully, sliding her gift to Mr. and Ms. Weasley into her host's hand. "I am very grateful."

Mrs. Weasley beamed. "It was nothing at all, now, come in! Dumbledore might be coming for a spell, and hopefully, Professor McGonagall and more Order members."

"Not Snape, I hope," Ginny piped up, entering the hallway. "That would be downright awful."

"Professor Snape," Mrs. Weasley corrected tightly. "And yes, we did invite him, although I doubt that he'll be coming. He has Order business."

"Not on Christmas?" Hermione asked, vaguely dismayed at the thought. "How horrible."

Ms. Weasley nodded, casting her daughter a strict look, and shut the door with a large thud, nearly knocking the large wreath off.

The entire house was decked in green bows, and red ribbons all over the place. Floating candles hovered in the air, and a rather large Christmas tree sat in the receiving room. Hermione was reminded, painfully, of her few and memorable Christmases at Hogwarts. She hoped that Dumbledore would come for some, if not all, of the dinner. But she supposed he had things to do at Hogwarts, as did Hagrid and Professor McGonagall.

The large dining room was filled to the brim with people laughing and shouting. Someone had brought Wizard Christmas crackers, and as she took a seat next to Draco, someone threw her one. Draco's had contained a rather large straw hat, and he was wearing it with a certain dignity that made her want to crack up. She kissed him on the cheek quickly, and had him pull at the other end of her cracker. It revealed a flapper cloche hat from the 20's, and she put it on her head, although her hair did puff out under it.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered, taking her hand under the table. A little white mouse stuck it's head out from the cracker, and she thought briefly of taking it home with her, but then realized that Crookshanks would eat it in a jiffy.

"Happy Christmas," she whispered back as she was passed a plate. The food hadn't arrived yet, and clearly, everyone was starving.

"Thanks for the present," Hermione said, quietly. "But it wasn't the only piece of Natalya memorabilia I received." She pulled the note out from her pocket and handed it to him. He skimmed it, his pale brows furrowing slightly as he did. She then handed him the necklace, and he quickly found the inscription on the back.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "We know that Natalya's cousin is dead, and that Marissa has nothing of Natalya's. And Marissa had no other siblings. How does this work?"

"I have no idea," Hermione said with a shrug.

Mrs. Weasley came out bearing laden plates of food, most of them being Hermione's favorites. Steaks, all cooked medium-rare, thick dark gravy, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes, leek soup, boiled green beans, peas, and other fantastic things.

Hermione loaded her plate with various things, her stomach rumbling loudly. Draco draped his arm around her shoulders, and she felt so warm, and loved. But the locket weighed down her pocket, reminding her of everything she had to do, and what Harry had to do.

Suddenly she felt cold, and the locket seemed to burn through her jeans and brand her skin icy as fresh snow. She shivered, and wondered if the Order would ever be the same again.

She saw Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting next to Tonks and Professor Lupin. And there was Sirius and Harry, talking animatedly about everything under the sun. Pandora sat next to Harry and Ron, and was playing with her food happily. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat at the head of the table, happily engrossed in each other. Bill and Charlie were discussing the latest Quidditch news, and Fred and George were arguing over various Wizard Wheezes monetary issues. Hermione knew that nothing would ever, ever be the same again. And that scared her more than anything ever could.

* * *

After dessert, Pan caught her eye, and Hermione feigned having to go to the bathroom. The two of them exited silently, and stood in one of the abandoned hallways beneath floating candle.

"What's the Society of the Dead?" Hermione asked as soon as they were sure no one was listening.

Pan glanced around. "It's an underground club of sorts, of Necromancers. There are only about ten of us in all of the United Kingdom, so we meet every other week. They gave me one too, apparently there is some sort of prophecy surrounding us. According to one of the older Necromancers, his name is Augustus Snerdmore, we're the 'Blessed One's' because we dream of Persephone."

"That's very interesting," Hermione mused. "How are we supposed to meet every other week while we're in school?"

"Apparently there's another student who's a member of the Society, so they hold meetings at Hogsmeade, and get a private room at the Three Broomsticks," Pan explained. "It's really important that we go. I'm sure my dad will excuse us."

"Sure," Hermione said, still a little flabbergasted. "I suppose. Um… Pan?"

"Yeah?"

"I…" Hermione paused. "I got a bunch of jewelry for Christmas. Two pieces of it belonged to your mom, do you want it?"

Pan looked a little surprise. "From who?"

"Draco," Hermione said, blushing. "And an anonymous well-wisher." She handed the letter to Pan, who read it quickly and then handed it back.

"Nah," Pan said quietly. "Thanks for offering, but someone already tried to give some of her necklaces to me. But, I don't really think my mom's all that great. And I don't really want to have anything to do with her."

"She wasn't all that bad," Hermione said gently. "She just fell in love with the wrong guy."

"Yeah," Pan said, curling her lip. "And then she went and got pregnant? Not the greatest of ideas, if you ask me."

"Pan," Hermione said tiredly. "Everyone makes mistakes. She's dead, can't you forgive her?"

Pan shook her head adamantly. "No. She was a bitch, and she deserved what she got. Anyone who abandons her kids is stupid."

Hermione bit her lip, but decided to say her mind anyway. "Haven't you ever thought that maybe she was doing the right thing? If you hadn't been raised by Professor Dumbledore, you'd be a radically different person."

"Yeah," Pan said defiantly. "But I'd have a brother who was normal, and I'd have a mother."

"There's no guaranteeing your brother would have been normal had he been raised by Natalya," Hermione said gently. "And Lucius probably would have had you both killed had you stayed with your mother. You were too much of a threat."

Pan shrugged, but would say no more on the subject.

* * *

Hermione and Pan returned to the dining room to find that everyone had retired to the living room. They hurried back to find that Harry and Ron had started a spirited game of wizard's chess, and everyone seemed to have taken sides. Hermione plopped down on a couch next to Draco. He draped his arm across her shoulders and she smiled up at him.

"Who's winning?" she asked.

"Harry," Draco replied, clearly satisfied by this. "It's cool to think that he's beating Ron, who's been playing his entire life. I like rooting for the under dog."

Hermione smiled again and leaned her head against his shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Sigh... this summer has been very interesting... whew. I went swimming this morning, so I am covered in chlorine! Please leave a review!  



	20. Engaged?

Chapter 20

Hermione and Draco walked up to her front step, both of them feeling rather tight in their jeans. The mist hung in the air, giving the normally cheerful neighborhood a rather eerie and ghostly feeling. The florescent street lamps shone through the mist, dimly lighting their way. Her house glowed, and she could see her family, as well as Cho, talking animatedly at the dining table.

"Thanks for accompanying me home," she said quietly. "I appreciate it."

He smiled. "I have to get you to forgive me somehow."

She grinned. "Well, you're doing pretty well. I have to admit, that necklace helped a great deal."

"That's what I thought," he said smugly, taking her hand.

"I hope you don't mind," she said suddenly. "But I offered it to Pan. It was her mother's, after all."

He seemed a bit surprised, but not upset. "That's fine, I understand. I was under the impression that she didn't want it though."

"She didn't," Hermione said quietly. "And I'm glad she didn't. It's very beautiful."

"Promise me you'll wear it to the end of the year dance," Draco said suddenly, tightening his grip on her hand. "Promise?"  
"Of course," she said, smiling at him. "Along with the ruby ring. But if I have to promise to wear the necklace, you have to promise to wear those blood red dress robes, you know how much I love those."

"Promise," he said. "How could I deny you anything?"

She laughed. "Watch, one day I'll ask you something you won't wan to do, and then you'll take that back."

He smiled and looked down at her with such love and adoration that she was surprised by his fervor. She felt a chill run down her spine, and her cheeks flushed.

He leaned in to kiss her, and when her lips touched his she felt as if someone had shocked her. She kissed him with such abandon that when they pulled away, she had astounded even herself.

* * *

Hermione let herself into the house, where her family was clustered around the table. Draco had already Disapparated, and she hoped that her mother hadn't seen them kissing. She took her usual seat by her father and brother, who was sitting across from Cho.

"How was dinner?" her father asked, taking a polite sip of his red wine, leaving a faint film of wine on his upper lip.

"It was great," Hermione replied, aware that Cho was studying her closely.

"How are Ron and Harry?" Ms. Granger asked politely, passing Hermione a cup of tea. "And you said something about Professor Dumbledore."

"Ron and Harry are well," Hermione said a bit vindictively, glaring at Cho for a second. She looked back at her mother. "And Professor Dumbledore couldn't make it to dinner."

"Oh that's too bad," Ms. Granger said, quite polite. "And how are Pandora?"

"She's great too," Hermione said, about to take a sip of her tea.

"And Draco?" her father said darkly.

Hermione burned her mouth on her tea and yelped.

"He's fine," she rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He raised an eyebrow, while Gaelen grinned at her.

"Humph," Mr. Granger said, taking a sip of wine. "That's nice. He'll have to spend more time here if you two are serious."

"Why do you get on my case?" Hermione grumbled. "I don't notice you critizing Gaelen about his girlfriends."

Gaelen coughed uncomfortably.

"Actually," he said, clearing his throat. "Cho and I have some news that we were going to tell you tonight, but you sort of disappeared before we could."

Suddenly Ms. Granger was beaming, and Mr. Granger had puffed up slightly, a very proud and fatherly expression on his face. Hermione felt her stomach twist up.

"Don't tell me-"

"We're engaged," Cho interrupted.

Hermione had twisted her face up before she could help it. She quickly removed her expression of distaste, and adopted a smile.

"How… sweet," she managed, taking a sip of her tea. "When are you going to have the wedding?"

Cho looked at Gaelen and they smiled at each other. Hermione's stomach twisted even more.

"We're planning on it as soon as Gaelen graduates in June."

"Isn't that a bit soon?" Ms. Granger said, biting her lip, and clinging to the tea-pot. "I mean, don't you think you should wait a bit?"

Cho shook her head. "With all the killings-" Suddenly she looked stricken; she had given herself away. Mr. and Ms. Granger looked at each other, and then at Cho. Hermione couldn't help but smirk.

"What do you mean?" Ms. Granger asked, putting down the tea-pot. Her knuckles were white. Hermione folded her arms across her chest, wondering how Cho would cover.

Cho played stupid. "Oh, I've been hearing about all these killings all over the world, where people just keel over dead. There have been normal healthy people about middle age just dying. If anything were to happen to me, or to Gaelen, I want to be with him as long as possible."

Hermione rolled her eyes. But this explanation seemed to satisfy Mr. and Ms. Granger, who had heard about the killings, but hadn't really taken any stake in them.

"I understand," Ms. Granger said, looking at Gaelen with tenderness. "We understand perfectly. Anything to make you both happy."

Gaelen suddenly seemed rather uncomfortable, and Hermione couldn't blame him. She swished her tea around in her cup, staring at the little flecks of leaves that were drifting around.

"And you Hermione," Mr. Granger said grumpily. Hermione looked up. "You must start thinking about getting married."

"Married?" she said indignantly. "I haven't even graduated from school! What are you gabbing about?"

Mr. Granger cleared his throat angrily. "We'll discuss this later."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So much for progressive parents."

"Got that right," Gaelen muttered.

"What was that?" her father boomed. Hermione found herself giving Cho the evil eye, and thinking that it was all her fault. Even though she knew perfectly well that Cho had nothing to do with it in the slightest.

* * *

A/N: ERgghhh. Sorry, but I really don't like Cho... can you tell? But she'll be more of a sympathetic character later on, I promise. Please leave a review. :) 


	21. Illusion Spell

Chapter 21

Hermione finished her eggnog, bid her parents a happy Christmas, and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. What was all this about marriage? Her parents had never stressed the importance of it; after all, both of them had been married before, and had always complained about how they had been too young. It just didn't make any sense to her. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Draco; but she had just never really thought about it.

She sat down at her desk, pulled out a piece of parchment, and her favorite black quill. Her ink sat waiting for her. She hesitated for just a second, and then dipped the quill in, and began writing.

_Dear Draco,_

_How strange these past few days have been. Remember that my brother and Cho Chang were dating last time you were here? Now they're engaged, and to be quite honest, I'm not very happy about it. She hasn't even told him that she's a witch, and who knows how that will go. And my parents are really stressing marriage lately, I can't help but wonder if theirs is under strain, and they want to distract attention from it, by pressuring me about the importance of marriage. It sounds so implausible that I'm tempted to laugh, but people do strange things when they're angry, as you well know._

_Cho ate dinner with my family, and my parents positively adore her. I must admit, that I really don't like her. Perhaps it's the afterward of the whole D.A. fiasco, where her best friend tattled on us to Umbridge. Although you did help with that. So it wasn't really all Marietta's fault. But how easy I find it to blame that little rat and Cho Chang! I wish I could like her, for Gaelen's sake, but sympathy for Harry does weigh out my desire for liking Cho Chang. _

_On another note, I've been thinking about the upcoming upper class ball in May. Since we have a few more days before school begins, would you like to go with me to London next week to shop for a dress? Ginny might come along, I've already spoken about it with her, and with a little disguise, no one would recognize you. Ginny's very excited about being able to attend, and I'm glad it's for both sixth and seventh years. Well, I'll see you later._

_Hermione_

Hermione finished the letter with a flourish and stuffed it into an envelope. She tied the letter to one of the owls that had stayed on the premises after delivering Christmas presents, giving it a knut for it's worries, and then got ready for bed.

* * *

"No," Draco said heatedly. "I absolutely refuse to wear a false moustache, especially a black one. It will look absurd."

"Please," Ginny cajoled as they stood in the front hallway of the house on Knockturn Alley. "It's just a bitty moustache."

"No," Draco repeated staunchly. "What do you take me for, some sort of buffoon?" The others guffawed, and even Draco cracked a smile, which quickly dropped when Ginny waved the false moustache back and forth enticingly.

"Fine," Ginny said disapprovingly, dropping the muggle toy back into the bag she had found it in. "You'll just have to dress as a woman."

"A woman?" Draco exclaimed indignantly. "Now that is a bit extreme, Ginerva."

"Don't call me Ginerva," Ginny snapped. "Draco Malfoy!"

He started a bit, but looked ready to smack Ginny after he came down from where he had levitated too.

"Well, you need to be disguised," Hermione said worryingly, biting her lip. "Isn't there something you'll settle for, Draco?"

Mrs. Weasley furrowed her brow and tapped her wand against the stair balustrade, sending little sparks onto the marble stairs. "Well, you could always do an illusion or an allusion charm."

"What's the difference?" Pan asked grumpily.

"Allusion is imitating someone else, illusion just changes your features slightly," Hermione explained. "We'd best do an illusion, it'll be harder for everyone to recognize him. Can you do those rather well, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley replied, bustling over to Draco. She tapped his cheek lightly, and said, "Illusasy."

His face waved like a rippling pool, and suddenly cleared, and there was a shocked silence.

"Is his nose supposed-" Pan started out.

"Never mind," Mrs. Weasley said hastily. "I'll fix everything."

But it was too late, Draco had already seen himself in the mirror by the door, and he let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Sirius rushed in, wand outstretched, and upon seeing Draco's twisted face, his jaw dropped, and his noble brow went pale.

"That's one horrible illusion spell," Sirius managed.

"You look like a Picasso," Hermione said quietly. "I can't say the nose in the middle of your forehead is really an improvement."

And indeed, the lips on his temple didn't quite help either. His ear was where his mouth had been, and his nostrils were on his chin. It was comical in an almost disgusting way.

"I'll fix that," Mrs. Weasley said irritably. "My wand has been acting up lately, and it's nothing a little spell can't do."

"Would you rather I did it, Molly," Sirius said gently.

"No-"

"Sirius, do it," Draco said, his lips moving on his temple. Hermione winced, and was tempted to back away, but didn't. Mrs. Weasley seemed rather put out by Draco's lack of faith, but backed away to let Sirius do his magic.

"Illusaporate," Sirius said, tapping Draco's face. His face once again blurred like a rippling pool, and then cleared, revealing his normal, handsome face.

"Thank god," Draco breathed, feeling his face.

Ginny giggled loudly and Draco shot her a nasty look.

"Let's try that again," Sirius said, and before Draco could protest, said, "Illusasy." Once again, Draco's face rippled and then cleared. But this time, his face had changed, but to something normal. His nose was more squashed and less aquiline, his mouth was not as generous, and and his eyes had changed color completely. They were now blue as cornflowers.

"That's better," Sirius said, clearly satisfied. "You're not the looker you used to be, but it's only temporary, of course."

"Humph," Draco said, clearly not agreeing with his new face. "I guess it's okay. Better than brewing up a polyjuice potion or something."

"Seriously," Hermione said with a grin. "Imagine if you met who you were imitating on the street. They'd think you'd found one of the time-turners, even though we smashed them all."

"Argh," Draco said with a laugh. "Could you imagine the person's face?" He twisted his face into a horrified expression, and she laughed.

"Let's go," Pan said impatiently. "I want to get a dress for this damn ball, we might as well just do it."

* * *

Six teenagers turned around the corner onto Diagon Alley, talking loudly and enjoying the snow that had covered the cobblestones of the once crowded series of shops. But the once cheerful place was now desolate and deserted. Anxious shop keepers peered out of their windows, looking desperately for customers, and hoping not to find trouble. 

They reached the wall and one of them tapped their wand against the bricks. They formed an arch, and they passed through and into the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione waved to the tired Tom, and they hurried out onto the London street.

"Where should we go first?" Pan asked, eyeing the muggles fretfully. "I don't know any muggle shops…"

"One of my brother's ex-girlfriends bought her wedding dress at a fancy dress shop down the street," Hermione said, grabbing Draco's hand. "Let's go there first."

* * *

A/N: Okay, this is the last time I'm going to update for two weeks, I'm very very sorry, but even writer's need a sabbatical every once in a while. So, please leave a review/comment, and I'll post again in two weeks!  



	22. A Page Backward

Chapter 22

Mr. Smith's Fine Dresses was one of London's upscale dress shops, with tailors and several attendants on hand. It was clearly out of Hermione and Ginny's price range, but they did enjoy looking at the resplendent dresses that lined the walls of the shop. Hermione's favorite was red taffeta dress with a princess waistline and v-neckline.

After Hermione and Ginny had finished browsing, the boys dragged them back out onto the street.

"There's nothing there that we can afford," Draco complained loudly. "Let's go to some hole in the wall place."

"We could borrow dresses," Ginny suggested. "Then we wouldn't have to spend any money at all."

"Who would have dresses that we could wear?" Hermione said hopelessly. "Unless we wanted to wear vintage clothing-"

"That's it!" Draco crowed triumphantly. "I know just the place, it sells muggle vintage clothing, and it's absolutely lovely. It's called A Page Backward. Ninian recommended it."

Hermione looked at Pan and they both rolled their eyes. "Draco," Hermione said patiently. "Your family is stinking rich, they can afford fancy vintage clothing."

"No, no," he said emphatically. "This shop is very affordable, my mum only bought their really expensive stuff. But most of it is quite cheap, and in good condition too. Come on, you can't turn down an opportunity like this…"

Hermione looked at Ginny and Ginny shrugged.

"Why not?" she said, looking at the ground and scuffing her feet. "It wouldn't hurt to look."

* * *

The outside of A Page Backward was disappointing to say the least. It seemed like any regular muggle shop; and if Hermione hadn't known, she would have thought it owned by muggles. But as they were walking there Draco had briefed them on Madame Woodson's great work with 

"Should we go in?" Pan said hesitantly as they stood clumped in front of the iron door.

"Why not?" Ginny said, shoving Hermione forward. Hermione pushed the door open, and they filed into the shop.

Racks and racks of muggle vintage clothing covered the floor shop. Hermione let her mouth drop, it was stunning to see that wizards and witches would wear muggle clothing occasionally.

She turned to Draco, and whispered in his ear, "Do witches and wizards actually wear this stuff? I had always thought that the wizarding world was rather priggish about mixing worlds."

"Some of us are," he said with a grin. "But check out that great Regency jacket. With magic we can keep this clothing in good shape, muggles can't do that."

"You should wear that to the ball," Hermione said suddenly. "Wouldn't it be quite cute?"

"I suppose," Draco said slowly. "But I think I shouldn't do anything drastic yet until the war with Voldemort is over. Wearing something like that would declare my allegiance, and that would be potentially dangerous to you and me."

"I suppose," she said quietly. "I'll go look for a dress."

"Ooooh," Ginny squealed, holding up a knee length black dress made of taffeta. "It's so beautiful."

"That is pretty," Hermione said admiringly as several muggles entered the store. "How much is it."

Ginny looked at the tag. "It says £11."

Suddenly there was someone behind them.

"Look on the back of the tag," a very bossy voice said from behind them. They turned around to see a tall buxom woman with long black hair eyeing them with a strange smile on her lips.

"Hello," Hermione said, holding out her hand. The woman shook it suspiciously.

The woman looked over Hermione's shoulder and narrowed her eyes. Hermione followed her gaze and found that the strange woman was staring at Draco.

"Do you know Mr. Malfoy?" the woman asked as Ginny flipped over the tag.

"Yes," Hermione replied, unsure of where the conversation was going. Suddenly Hermione remembered that she shouldn't have recognized him, he was under the illusion. "How could you tell that it was Draco?"

The woman smiled. "When you have known his family for as long as I have, they simply can't fool you. They're all very similar, personality wise."

"Ninian recommended us to this store," Hermione said, hoping this was the right thing to say.

"I should think so," the woman said, and it seemed to Hermione that she was like a cat, ready to pounce at the smallest slight. "Ninian buys all her dresses from me."

Ginny looked up from the dress, her eyes wide. "You own this store?"

"Of course," the woman purred. "I am Madame Woodson."

The name meant nothing to Hermione, Pan, or Ginny, but they bowed out and hurried into the racks. It seemed to Hermione that there was something vaguely familiar about this Madame Woodson...

* * *

Hermione, Pan, and Ginny browsed through the dresses with much attention to detail. Ginny seemed to have found the dress she wanted to wear, but Hermione and Pan were at a loss for ideas. 

They were shifting through the dresses in the nineteenth century section, and Hermione was drawn to an regency dress with a long skirt and high waist-line.

"That would look very good on you, Hermione," Pan said, clapping her hands excitedly. "You simply have to get it."

"But the end of the year ball isn't a costume ball," Hermione scolded. "And I don't want to buy it if I'm not going-"

"Oh do be quiet," Pan said, shoving her toward the counter. "We're going to have a ball at the house on Knockturn Alley, with a ball room like that, how could we not? Let's say next Christmas, just to plan ahead, and you'll have to wear it then."

"Oh, I suppose," Hermione said, placing the dress on the counter. "But what am I going to wear to the end of the year dance?"

"We'll find something," Pan said strictly, as Hermione pulled out her wallet to pay Madame Woodson. "Perhaps Persephone can lend you something."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione scoffed. "Persephone's dresses are all from ancient times, and I doubt they would look good at a formal dance event."

"You have a point," Ginny said. "But who's this Persephone chick?"

"Ah never mind," Hermione said, grinning madly. "She's dead."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Not even going to ask."

So, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Harry, and Pan all hurried back out onto the street, and Ginny was the only one to have found suitable clothing for the dance.

"This is turning out to be much more work that I thought," Harry grumbled to Ron. "Who cares about how we look, I'm already wearing my dress robes."

Ron nodded. "Remember the last dance? God that was awful, boy am I glad that Fred and George bought me decent dress robes."

"Me too," Ginny remarked sourly. "You looked like Nearly Headless Nick in those old ones."

Everyone laughed, save Ron, but as they walked down the street talking spiritedly, Hermione's mind continued to stray back to the mysterious Madame Woodson.

* * *

A/N: Sorry my two week sabbatical ended up being three, but I needed a break from this story to get my groove back. I've been working on this story since last March, and believe me, even Hermione and Draco can get a bit dull. So now that I'm over my writer's block, I hope to bring it all back in full force. Terribly sorry about the dull chapter, but I was at a slow spot in the story, and I couldn't just skip a sort of important bit, introducing characters and all. I know, it's getting confusing, and hopefully everything will straighten out with the meeting of the Society of the Dead, and we'll discover who the other Hogwarts Necromancer is... So, leave a review, or don't, take your pick. :)  



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